


Winter's Bite, Summer's Embrace

by zulija



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Character Development, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romance, dominant elves, tuilius and elisif romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 23
Words: 107,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22807783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulija/pseuds/zulija
Summary: Having finally escaped her golden cage on the Summerset Isles, Minerva Sable-Shield returns to Skyrim only to find her home torn apart by a civil war. Knowing the Empire favored the elves, she quickly sides with the rebellion in hope to finally get her revenge. Rated M for violence, gore, and romantic stuff.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ralof, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Ulfric Stormcloak, Rikke/Galmar Stone-Fist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. The End, The Beginning

_4E 203, Solitude…_

An eerie and long silence settled in after the battle, as general Tullius's lifeless body hung over the walls of Castle Dour presentable to everyone. The Stormcloak's cheered in victory as the roars of Odahviing boomed from the heavens. With Tullius dead, they had successfully driven the Empire from Skyrim. The thought felt surreal even as she was the one holding the general while the Jarl of Windhelm pierced his heart with his sword.

To her right stood the man who had accomplished all this; the Jarl of Windhelm. He seemed in shock, same as her, as the calamity of the situation hit them. The cheers of their fellow soldiers died around them as they stared at one another, pale green eyes meeting deep blue ones, with the general's dead body between them. The months, years, of struggle had finally paid off. Skyrim was once again a free and independent land. It was all they'd been fighting for.

Galmar, the Jarl's faithful friend and companion stepped from the crowd of Stormcloak's that had gathered around them, patting everyone on their backs as he passed them. He stopped next to the Jarl, giving his shoulder a strong pat when he gave voice to his pride, "We showed these bastards how weak they truly are." Turning to the crowd, he continued, "Bards will sing about this day for the centuries to come, for Talos himself aided us in this glorious battle!"

Odahviing landed on the top of Castle Dour, directing his focus to Minerva. She walked closer to the faithful dragon as he regarded her, "A glorious battle, _Thuri_ , though their might was nothing compared to the might of a _dovah._ "

Minerva gave a nod of confirmation, "We couldn't have done it without you, Odahviing. Thank you."

The dragon shouted their victory to the heavens before he flew away, knowing nothing was required further of him. She watched the dragon until it was nothing but a mere dot on the sky before she looked behind her shoulder. The jarl watched her as Galmar talked to a group of Stormcloaks, and Minerva decided to go to him. When she stood in front of him, she glanced around and noticed the happy faces and cheers from her comrades. She smiled.

"I suppose a speech is in order," Ulfric spoke from next to her, pulling her attention to him. "Will you stand by my side? I wish to honor your deeds."

A smile stretched her lips and she nodded, "It would be my honor, jarl Ulfric."

Ulfric turned towards the wall where the generals body was just mere moments ago. Galmar and several Stormcloaks had disposed the body, freeing the space for the jarl. He stood proud and tall as he glanced down the wall at his army, the people who had fought and bled and hungered for this day. The crowd roared as they saw him, praising his name and calling him High King. Minerva appeared next to him then and the crowd cheered, throwing their weapons in the air to greet her, the word Dovahkiin roaring among the crowd.

Ulfric raised a hand and slowly the cheers died until silence settled on the earlier battlefield. "Sons and daughters of Skyrim," he started, his voice booming from the wall, "Today, we are honored to witness the start of a new era; an era where the Empire is driven from Skyrim! We stand on soil that is once again free!"

The crowd cheered, their voices sending vibrations through the sky she felt humming inside her chest. "But it is thanks to you, my fellow soldiers, that we could have accomplished so much. It is thanks to you and your sacrifices. It is thanks to our fallen comrades, men and women who died for this war, that we live to witness this day." He raised his hand towards her and the crowd turned their eyes on her. Minerva swallowed but held her head high nonetheless. "And it is thanks to the Dragonborn, also known as Stormblade among our ranks, that we could have accomplished such glorious deed. Without her, we wouldn't be standing here today!"

"Long live the Dovahkiin! Long live the High King!" the crowd cheered. Minerva felt an overwhelming amount of pride as she looked at the soldiers who'd fought beside her now praising her name as though she was their hero.

The cheers calmed a bit before a voice could be heard from the crowd, "And what about Elisif?" and the other joined in with an, "Aye!"

"Yes, what about Elisif?" Ulfric repeated as Galmar dragged her towards the jarl. She was squirming in his arms, but when her eyes found Minerva, a snarl darkened her pale face. Ulfric approached her and stood mere feet in front of her before asking, his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear, "Will she put aside her personal hatred for me and her love for the Empire, and swear fealty to me?"

Even though Minerva wanted to pierce her gut with her sword, she admitted keeping Elisif alive was the better choice; Ulfric and her already discussed so a few days prior. Elisif looked like she was about to kill him as she spoke, "I do!" but even as she said it Minerva knew she would look for ways to stab a dagger into Ulfrics back. But she would keep an eye on her, to ensure the jarl of Solitude remained obedient.

Ulfric remained silent for a while, waiting for the crowd to calm a bit before he continued, "Go home now, my fellow Stormcloak's. Go home to your wife's and husband's, to your family; tell them that we have won. Talos guied you."

The crowd slowly dispersed in silence. Ulfric turned to her then, and her heart leapt in her throat.

"I have to thank you," he said, his voice a little above a whisper. Ulfric always was a too private man, always trying to maintain a mask of confidence and strength in front of the others.

"I did this for our homeland, my Jarl," she said, bowing her head. When she looked up, her pale green eyes found his and Minerva felt enraptured by them. "And for you… Ulfric."

"Dragonborn." Shaking his head slightly, he used her name instead, "Minerva. None of this would have happened without you."

Her heart was beating so fast she was certain everyone around them could hear it. Her eyes fluttered as she refused to break the Jarl's gaze. To hear him thanking her like this was rare, she admitted, and she treasured each intimate moment with him as though it would be their last. "You deserve that throne, Ulfric. Skyrim needs a strong leader, one that isn't afraid to bar his teeth to their enemies, if necessary. You will make a good king." She added the last with a smile.

Her statement brought a warm smile to the usual stoic features of the Jarl. Taking another step in her direction, he brushed her black hair aside and tucked it behind her ear before cupping her cheek. His palm was cold and rough against her cheek, the touch summoning many pleasant memories of so many nights spent with the man in front of her.

Her heart rapidly thudded against her ribcage as she stared deeply into his eyes. "My Jarl," she whispered, then shook her head slightly before correcting, "Ulfric. The strong, fierce and passionate Ulfric… my Ulfric."

"Minerva..."

"I was wrong about you, Dragonborn," Galmar's voice boomed from behind them as he approached them. Minerva expected Ulfric to move, but he gazed into her eyes without acknowledging him. "For that I owe you my apologies," Galmar placed his right hand above his heart and bowed.

Ulfric moved both his hands behind his back before he regarded him. "I told you we can trust her."

Galmar laughed, giving her shoulder a pat that almost threw her off her feet. He spoke enthusiastically, "I have fought with and against many things. But to fight beside the Dragonborn of legend and a dragon is beyond everything I have survived."

"We've been through a lot, Galmar," said the Jarl as he stared out into the city, his gaze becoming distant.

"Aye, that we have," he agreed as he moved stand beside him, "but every sacrifice we and the others made, every battle we have won, was worth it," Galmar spoke without a hint of a doubt.

"Was it?" asked the Jarl, the doubt ringing loudly in his voice. Minerva opened her mouth to convince him of the opposite, but Galmar was faster.

"Aye, you brought back what we have lost to the damn elves. You are an idol, Ulfric. Everyone out there will say the same."

"Alright, you're right," the Jarl agreed, letting out a nervous breath. His shoulders set with purpose, he turned to his best friend and highest ranking officer before asking, "We need to secure the city, send the few remaining Imperial soldiers back to Cyrodiil." Just as that, the strong and fierce facade was back up, shoving away the insecure and doubtful part of him.

"What about Elisif?" Galmar inquired.

Ulfric sighed and stared up at Castle Dour as he considered his options. He glanced briefly at Minerva, before turning to Galmar. "Let her stay at the Blue Palace for now. As soon as the moot declares me High King, she will move out of the Palace."

"Very well," Galmar turned to her then, "I trust you will keep an eye on the Jarl of Solitude? To make sure she stays… obedient."

Minerva nodded, crossing her arms. "Aye. I'll have people watching her. She swore fealty to Ulfric, but I can't shake the feeling she will try everything to avenge Torygg's death."

"I trust you'll take care of the city, yes?" Ulfric asked Galmar to which the general nodded. "Good. If you don't mind, I have something to discuss with the Dragonborn."

Galmar eyed her before a grin exploded on his face, then turned to leave the pair alone.

Ulfric waited for a few more moments before he faced her, getting as close to her as possible. "When everything settles down and I move to the Blue Palace, I want you and the children to move out of Hjerim."

The statement took her by surprise. She blinked. "And go where, my Jarl?"

He smiled so softly Minerva felt her heartbeat elevate. The things that man did to her. "There are plenty of rooms in the palace. And I'm certain the children will want to escape the rough cold of Windhelm."

She blinked, bewildered by his confession. "I don't know what to say," she admitted, and his hand came to her cheek again.

"Don't say anything. You know I want this… more than anything."

"Ulfric…"

She was struck speechless by his admission, even though she knew he felt that way for a long time now. Ulfric withdrew his hand and sighed sharply, his gaze turning distant when he spoke, "I have to meet up with Galmar, to secure the city as quickly as possible. You'll head to Windhelm, yes?"

She nodded, "Aye."

His eyes ran across her face and he smiled, "Stay safe. And Talos guide you."

"You too, Ulfric. Take care."

Her heartbeat elevated as she watched him leave, numerous feelings exploding inside of her chest as she took a deep breath.

She felt eyes watching her and she turned around. Her heart plummeted to her feet at the sight of Ralof, standing there and watching her as if he just lost everything that was precious to him. Swallowing the lump, she allowed the memories of him to emerge as sadness filled her heart.

"Ralof..."

####

 _4E 201.._.

She fell down on her knees and hands, black riming her vision in an attempt to catch her breath. Her ribs hurt with every intake or exhale of air as she tried to will her body to get up, but to no avail. The strength had left her arms and legs, and she slowly succumbed to the ever consuming blackness.

"Come on," said Ralof as he pulled her up and back onto her feet, wrapping his arm strongly around her waist. "Only a few steps left till we reach Riverwood."

"I... I-" a painful cough tore through her and she closed her eyes in hope the pain would disappear. He dragged them away from the main road towards a secluded place between trees. He gently put her down and leaned her back on a boulder that would hide her from the main road.

He knelt down next to her and his hand came up to touch her forehead. "You're burning," he stated, and through her foggy vision she could see that he stood up and went to the nearby river. He returned with his dripping shirt and placed it around her neck. "This should lower your temperature till we reach Riverwood."

Without giving her time to protest to leave her here, he picked her up on his back, grunting out with the effort. His shoulder was injured, she'd been the one to remove the piece of wood that had pierced his flesh, still he insisted to carry her. She could barely keep her eyes open as the exhaustion along with the ever increasing temperature pulled her into unconsciousness.

Her vision became more and more blurry, and the last thing she remembered was hearing Ralof's voice saying, "Hold on, we're almost there..."

####

_Hours later..._

A comforting heat enveloped her as the sound of crackling fire reached her ears. Slowly she opened her eyes and it took her a while to adjust to the barely lit surroundings. She lifted her head to look around and immediately spotted the blazing fire in the hearth, and realized it was the only source of light. Memories came back, how she lost her consciousness while Ralof carried her towards Riverwood. She frowned and slowly started to sit up but was pushed back down on the bed by firm hands.

"Easy there, will you,"an unknown woman spoke. "You have fever, don't strain yourself too much."

"Where am I?" Minerva whispered, each word hurting, her throat and mouth dry as a desert.

"In Riverwood," the woman answered. "I am Gerdur, Ralof's sister. Both of you were in a bad shape, but I managed to patch you up." Gerdur silenced for a while, watching her with something Minerva couldn't identify. "How are you?"

Minerva tried to swallow, but her throat hurt with the effort. "I'm thirsty," she whispered.

"Oh, of course," Gerdur pushed herself up from the chair and went to grab a mug of water. Sitting down on the bed beside her, Gerdur leaned the mug on Minerva's lips and she took a few generous gulps. When the mug was empty, Gerdur placed the mug on the night table beside the bed.

"Where is Ralof?" Minerva asked.

"He's asleep," answered Gerdur as she checked Minerva's temperature with the back of her hand. "I disinfected his shoulder. He took quite the hit, didn't he?" The older woman's eyes were focused on dipping the cloth in cold water.

Minerva watched the older woman as she answered, "A piece of wood pierced his shoulder when we escaped a burning building."

"He mentioned something of a dragon attacking Helgen," Gerdur asked carefully. Minerva grit her teeth at the horrid memory of the black winged dragon. "Is it true?"

Minerva took a deep breath before nodding, "Yes, it is. I was just about to meet the headman's axe when the dragon landed and started to burn down the village. I hate to admit it, but that dragon saved mine and Ralof's life."

Gerdur let out a long breath as she looked away towards the hearth. "You two have been through a lot today." Minerva watched the older woman's features twist in concern at the news she had heard. She could hardly believe it herself; dragons were always just a legend, feared by every Nord and citizen of Skyrim. Dragons were not supposed to be real.

Suddenly Gerdur stood up from the bed which interrupted her wandering thoughts. "You must be tired," she said, sending her guest a warm smile. "We'll see you in the morning."

The older woman left the room, leaving Minerva alone to her thoughts. When the door closed with an annoying creak, Minerva gazed out of the window, immediately noticing the large moon and stars that illuminated the night. Though she wanted to imprint this beautiful sight to her memory, her eyelids became heavier and she succumbed to her exhaustion. Her last thoughts before she drifted to sleep were of Ralof, and how heroically he carried her towards Riverwood with an injured shoulder.

####

Minerva awoke to the chilly breeze coming from the barely open window in the room. She sat up and glanced around the room, immediately noticing the fire had died in the hearth. Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she slowly stood up from the bed and went to the window. She wasn't expecting to see such a glorious sight; it warmed her body and summoned a rosy flush to her cheeks.

Ralof was outside chopping wood, shirtless, the bandage secured to his shoulder. She had seen him shirtless before, but her vision had been foggy and her mind too weak to register the beauty of it. Biting her lower lip, she closed the window with the other hand and decided to leave the room to head downstairs.

The moment she stepped on the stairs the smell of food reached her nose. It smelled delicious, and when she reached the kitchen she caught sight of Gerdur standing near the oven, baking bread.

"Morning," she greeted, and Minerva greeted her with a smile of her own.

"Morning. Say, why is Ralof outside chopping wood?" she asked, not able to hide her curiosity.

Gerdur laughed as she answered, "Ralof is a stubborn Nord, that's why he's outside chopping wood."

Minerva thought about her answer for a while, letting the silence stretch a little as the older woman placed the dishes on the round table. "Doesn't his shoulder hurt?" she asked when the silence stretched too much.

Gerdur smiled again before answering, "It probably does, but he's too proud to admit it." She walked away from the table and leaned out of the window before yelling, "Hod!"

"What?" sounded another deep, male voice from outside.

"Get my brother from that block! He'll only strain his shoulder and then what good will he be!"

Minerva smiled at the playfully serious banter between Hod, Gerdur's husband, and Ralof coming from outside. As they neared the house, their playful repartee became more and more audible until both of the women could hear what they were arguing about.

"I married your sister, Ralof," warned Hod. "There is nothing you could do that would frighten me."

When both men stepped inside the house, Ralof's eyes immediately fell on her, and for a moment, everything around them muffled. His blue eyes mesmerized her, striking her speechless as she clutched the blanket even harder around her chest, her heartbeat thudding against her eardrums. Her eyes drifted from his face down to his neck, his chest, until she took in the shape of those perfectly sculpted muscles. The bandage around his shoulder was slightly stung with blood but did nothing to ruin the fine specimen before her.

Ralof was a strong and beautiful man. His blue eyes were the color of Skyrim's ice, a pale blue color that seemed to suck the air out of her lungs if she stared for too long into them. His blonde hair was framing his face, accentuating his cheekbones. His arms were strong and toned, he could probably lift her in his arms without too much effort.

Eyes blinking rapidly, she looked away when a rosy blush colored her cheeks, again. Ralof and Hod came towards the table, and as if fate was mocking her, Ralof sat right beside her. The heat he was radiating warmed her entire body and made it hard for her to think straight. As Gerdur served the breakfast, Minerva decided to get to know the man who had saved her life more than once.

####

_4E 203, Solitude…_

"Minerva," Ralof whispered as he stopped not too close to her. They didn't want to alert the Jarl or his men, so they kept a respectable distance between them.

"We've won, Ralof," she whispered.

His eyes never left hers as he stood there, the blood of their now dead enemies tainting his face and curiass. His expression hopefull, he asked, "And? Will you come with me, back to Riverwood?"

Minerva knew the moment would come, she had only hoped it wouldn't be in front of the Jarl's men. "Ralof…" she whispered, regret washing over her as she sent him her most apologetic look. "You know I cannot leave with you."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Truth was that she could leave with him, but her heart and mind belonged elsewhere; they belonged to the Jarl of Windhelm.

"So you have made your choice," stated Ralof, his voice shaking a little at the realization. The way his sad eyes bore into her made her want to take everything back and go with him... just to see him smile again.

"Ralof, you deserve someone who will love you with all her heart," she said, hoping to make him understand that she couldn't leave the Jarl behind. "I know I should have told you the first time you admitted your feelings for me grew deeper, but... Ulfric was a different man back then." Her own voice shook a little at the memory of the time when Ulfric was nothing like the man he was today.

"So you kept me on a leash in case you fail in changing the Jarl."

Minerva shook her head frantically at his bitter statement. "No! That's not true!"

"Then why him?" although he was whispering, she could hear the hatred in his voice, the pain.

Not knowing how to answer him, she raised her head and met his angry gaze with her intimidating one. "I chose him because he is who he is."

"You chose him because he is Jarl?" stated Ralof in disbelief.

"Yes," she admitted although it had nothing to do with the truth. Minerva slowly grew tired of this conversation. A moment ago, she felt bad for causing Ralof so much heartbreak, but now all she wanted was to end this pointless repartee. "Yes, Ralof, I chose him because he is Jarl, and not because I love him. What kind of person do you take me for?"

Ralof shook his head in disbelief. "So this is it? You leave?" When she stayed silent, he continued, "What about Lucia, Sofie and Hroar?"

"They will come with me. Solitude has a lot more to offer for their future than Riverwood."

"Are you serious?" he asked as he took a step in her direction, stopping dangerously close to her. Minerva's eyes flickered to a couple of nearby guards keeping their eyes on them. Swallowing hard, she knew she had to end this conversation soon, for his sake. Otherwise, he would face dire consequences. "After all we've been through-"

"Enough!" she interrupted and jabbed a finger into his chest. "I know what I want and what I love! My place is beside the Jarl!"

Ralof chuckled bitterly and shook his head before looking away. When he met her gaze again, she was met with his anger and disappointment. "I hope you'll see the Jarl's true face, but don't come running back to me when you do."

Lifting her head to meet his intimidating gaze, she countered, "I know who he is. He is everything I will ever need and want," before she turned her back to him. She could feel his eyes boring into her back as she kept her spine straight and her expression neutral.

Truth was that she was hurt. She had been in love with him, dearly, and she thought that she would spend the rest of her days with him in Riverwood. She even gladly embraced the idea, but all that had been before she met the Jarl of Windhelm. She couldn't explain it other than fate. The man mesmerized her the moment their eyes met for the first time. He was everything Minerva desired in a man.

Though a part of her heart would always belong to Ralof, she couldn't leave the Jarl because of him. She loved Ulfric too much to turn her back on him now, after everything the two had accomplished. Skyrim was once again free of the claws of the Empire. That was their dream for so many years, and now that dream became reality.

Knowing that Ulfric didn't need her help for the moment, she walked towards the city gates. Her heart and mind were at peace because a long and exhausting war was finally over. Now she would head home to her lovely children and await the Jarl's letter for further instructions.


	2. Escape

_4E, 201..._

Riverwood was a quiet little town, its citizen's hardworking people who all did their part. After the stroll she'd taken earlier this morning, Minerva realized one could buy everything needed at the local store without having to travel to Whiterun. The lumber mill ran by Ralof's sister made most of the coin in town, next to Alvor running the forge. She'd talked with the older blacksmith and found out he was Hadvar's uncle. After that information, she became edgy around him and excused herself.

She decided to spend some time alone near the river and was delighted when she noticed a log she could sit on. She focused on the pure water and the fish, enjoyed the soft breeze and fresh air. Her eyes darted up and she could see a ancient Nordic ruin up in the mountains, the sight alone enough to inflict nightmares. She glanced around and found that she was alone, safely hidden behind the few bushes and pine trees. Smiling, she decided to play with her magic.

She wasn't a skilled mage, but she discovered her magicka while she was imprisoned on the Summerset Isles. She would play with it every time before bed and imagine she could burn the entire elven Kingdom with her magic. Perhaps one day, she would be strong enough to do so, but to achieve such might she would have to train a lot. She summoned a tiny ball of fire and let it float in the air. She played around a little, moving it in various directions. Then she summoned a ice spike with her other hand and maneuvered it through the air along with the ball of fire.

"You're a mage?"

She recognized Ralof's voice immediately, but it startled her out of her thoughts and she turned to face him. He was standing next to a pine tree, smiling softly before he approached her. Her magic vanished and she blushed slightly at his observation when he sat beside her.

"Yes," she admitted, looking in front of her.

"The only mages seen in Skyrim are the ones in the College of Winterhold, if you don't count the various battle mages and necromancers," he informed, as if trying to keep the conversation going.

"Well, that was where I wanted to go, actually," she could feel Ralof's questioning gaze staring at her profile. Sighing, she explained, "That was my plan before I was captured."

"You're not from Skyrim?" he asked, and Minerva was glad that he wanted to get to know her, even though breaching the subject of her past still hurt.

"I am," she answered with a small smile. "I grew up in a small village on the southeast of Skyrim, near Riften." Her smile grew weary as she continued, "My father was a Nord, my mother a Breton."

"Was?" asked Ralof wearily.

Minerva's smile fell completely as she nodded weakly. The mention of her parents still hurt. "The Thalmor attacked our village; they killed my parents and the entire village to set a statement." Her voice and expression grew sadder at the memory of her home, of her father and mother. Even after so many years, she still missed them.

Ralof shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable by her revelation, "I'm sorry."

Minerva waved him off and tried to think of something else, though the memory of her family's slaughter was persistent. It made it hard to keep her calm.

"Why did they attack?" he asked cautiously as he scooped a little closer, his movement slow and precise. It should have went unnoticed, but she did and found the gesture endearing.

"We openly worshiped Talos and they wanted us as an example of what happens if someone doesn't abide to their laws."

She wanted to tell him the whole story, but something held her back. The lump that formed in her throat grew and made her unable to speak. She was grateful when he decided to remain silent, as if he could sense the emotions raging inside of her.

They remained silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft and low as he suggested, "If you hate the Empire you should consider joining the rebellion."

The laugh coming from her was as humorless as she looked when she stated, "I'm no warrior. I would do the rebellion no good if I joined them."

"You're a mage," he pressed on, "Mage's are always needed."

"I don't even know any spells other than what you've seen earlier," she admitted, the doubt and shame ringing loud in her voice.

"Minerva," he said her name softly, "You worry too much."

"Probably," she stated absent mindedly, as though ashamed.

A comfortable silence fell over them. She didn't have the urge to speak so instead she basked in the beauty around them, admiring the bright green grass and tall trees. She found she enjoyed his presence and secretly wished they would remain like this for a while longer.

"I will head to Windhelm as soon as I recover," he broke the silence, his voice barely above the sound of nature.

The surprise caused by his sudden statement made her face widen in shock. "You will fight for the rebellion?" she wondered.

Ralof nodded and brought his sunken, dark eyes to hers. "Aye. I won't sit idle and watch as the Empire takes away all that matters to us."

Minerva thought about his statement. She had been absent from Skyrim for the past two decades, but it didn't take her long to understand there was a rebellion raging across the lands, led by the Jarl of Windhelm. Her grudge wasn't against the Empire, but said Empire allowed the elves, the Thalmor, to do as they pleased. It was the elves who had destroyed her home and had taken her to the Summerset Isles as their little pet. They have taken everything from her.

"I might join the rebellion myself," she stated as she glared at the rocky path on the other side of the river. "But first I have to go to Whiterun to warn the Jarl. Then, I will head to the College of Winterhold. I want to improve my magic before I join the rebellion."

"That's the spirit," he gave her a pat on the back before he stood up. "We might travel to Whiterun together."

Minerva looked at him, wondering, "Why?"

Ralof smiled when he explained, "I haven't been to Whiterun for a long time. Besides, someone has to watch your back," he winked before he made his way back to the house.

Minerva smiled as she watched the path he just took before she plucked a flower and brought it to her nose, inhaling its scent. Knowing she wouldn't have to travel alone made her a bit more relieved. Skyrim was still unexplored territory for her, she had no idea what dangers lurked along the path to Whiterun. She could defend herself against a group of bandits, but there was no chance she could fight off a troll on her own.

Talking to Ralof about things such as her childhood didn't feel as painful as she thought it would be, but the memories of her family's slaughter still weighed heavily on her soul. She thought about the first time she'd set foot onto Skyrim after two decades; she remembered the inn on the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim, and after she'd entered everything had gone downhill. She wondered if things were different had she not entered the blasted inn.

####

_One month ago…_

_Entering the inn, Minerva resisted the urge to gag at the horrid stench of piss and alcohol. The inn was full with lowlifes and mercenaries who were all but sober, demanding more mead than they could drink. The two maids fought their way through the crowd of drunkards who all called for the two women's attention. Thankfully, Minerva wore a hood and a cloak that hid her flesh from the drunkards._

_Minerva sat down at a square table at the far end of the tavern, trying her best not to draw any attention. The last thing she wanted was some idiots going after her because they thought her available. Minerva wanted to eat and sleep in peace, then be on her way in the first rays of light._

_The maid appeared a few moments later, clearly exhausted and out of breath. "What can I get you?" she asked as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand._

_Minerva smiled at the polite woman before saying, "I'd like to rent a room for the night."_

_The maid let out a sigh, whether out of relief or something else, as she pointed with her thumb behind her shoulder at the man standing behind the bar. "You'll have to talk to the innkeeper, Herold."_

_Dismissing the maid with a polite, "Thank you," Minerva left her seat and went to the bar to talk with the innkeeper. Thanks to her 5'2 foot, it was easy for her to squeeze through the inn without being noticed. Taking a seat at the bar, she waved her hand at the innkeeper who arrived as soon as he attended to the customers demanding more mead._

" _Hello, fine lady," he greeted annoyed. "Welcome to the Bully Troll. What can I get ya'?"_

" _The Bully Troll?" Minerva said with a laugh. "That's quite the name for an inn."_

_The innkeeper looked more annoyed at her observation as he leaned his elbows on the countertop. "Listen, lady, if you want a history lesson about the inn, then I'll have to disappoint ya'. I've no time to answer your 'funny' questions." Washing the countertop with a cloth, he asked, "What will it be?"_

" _I'd like to rent a room."_

_The man nodded, "Sure, it'll cost you ten gold pieces for the night." Minerva took out ten gold pieces and handed them to the innkeeper. When he was satisfied that the correct sum was paid, he gestured for her to follow him. He pushed through the crowd of drunkards, Minerva always a step behind him. When they reached the room, he turned to her and said, "Give a holler if you need anything," before he left the tiny room._

_Minerva closed the door before she settled herself down on the straw bed. She'd remembered the soft bed during her time on the Summerset Isles, and admitted it had been the only good thing she could name during her imprisonment. The straw bed was hard and rough, and the straw dug into her skin through the thin cloth covering it, but it would do for the night. The bed was certainly more comfortable than the forest grounds._

_Sleep evaded her though, but she hoped she would eventually catch a few hours of sleep. A couple of hours later her mind slowly drifted into sleep, but then she heard someone fumbling on the door knob from the other end of it before the door opened with a rusty squeak. Her heartbeat accelerated, her senses sharp as she focused on her hearing, unmoving on the bed. There were several footsteps silently moving over the wooden floor, their heavy boots announcing their presence. A shudder ran down her spine when she felt someone next to her and her eyes flew open._

_A man with a grey goatee was staring at her, his breath smelling like the mead he'd been drinking. She sat up from the bed but the man pushed her back with his hand to her throat. Putting his other hand on her mouth, he told her to stay hush as three other men appeared around the bed._

_Minerva's heart thudded against her eardrums as the man drew a dagger over the line of her jaw, pinning her down without even touching her. He sat down next to her, the straw giving in under his weight. "What a fine lady," he whispered drunkenly as he ran the dagger now down her throat, pushing the robe that covered her neck down to her collar. "I've set my eyes on you the moment you entered the inn."_

_Her attempt to avoid any attention failed. She cursed inwardly._

" _Aw, don't be shy," the man cooed, "I'm sure you won't mind if we have a little fun with you. Right guys?"_

_They all grumbled a "Yeah," as answer as the old man started to undo the strings holding her cloak._

_Minerva closed her eyes and shut out her surroundings as she summoned her magicka. She wrapped her tender fingers around the man's wrist, earning a pitiful smile from him. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat as she used her ice magic on his wrist._

_The man screamed in agony and he fell of the bed, giving Minerva all the opening she needed. She took the dagger she hid on her thigh and quickly killed the two on her right; one was rewarded with a stab to his heart, the other to his neck. The fourth stumbled back in fear and she ran past him, and squeezed her body through the crowd in the inn as she made her way to the exit._

_She ran for the door and outside, and was relieved to see the horse of a Imperial guard tied to the stump. She untied the rope and mounted the horse the moment the man with his bleeding wrist came out. The older man pointed his shortsword at her and shouted, "Murderer!" earning the attention of the nearby guards._

_Shit. Minerva wanted to avoid unnecessary attention and being called a murderer was not helping her plan. The horse carried her quickly through the woods while the guards mounted their horses. She looked behind her shoulder as she galloped of into the forest, relieved to see the Imperials falling more and more behind. Turning her attention back to the front, her mouth hung open at the large log that blocked their path. It was too late._

_The horse tried to jump over it, but its legs were caught on the tree branches and it fell forward. Minerva landed on her side, injuring her arm while she collided with the ground. The guards were already closing in on her as she shook the dizziness from her mind, standing on wobbly legs. She started to run as fast as she could, but they caught up with her._

_There was no way she could outrun them, so she pushed the cloak off of her shoulders and readied her sword. She wouldn't submit without a fight, even if it meant losing her life._

_####_

The Imperials had kept her imprisoned for weeks because they were convinced she was one of the Stormcloaks. They cut her food, kept her head under the water until she fell almost unconscious, even though she kept yelling she wasn't a rebel. They stopped with the torture eventually, but they humiliated her in other ways, like addressing her as they would a dog or throwing food at her. She was only sorry she couldn't kill them.

"Minerva!"

Startled out of her thoughts, she turned to find Gerdur approaching her. Minerva had no time to ask why the older woman looked that desperate; Gerdur grabbed her forearm and dragged her up on her feet before pulling her the way she came.

"You have to leave," she stated, not once looking behind her shoulder. Minerva glared at the back of her head, confused, as she dragged them back towards the house. Once inside, Gerdur locked the door then turned to face her.

"What's going on?" asked Minerva.

Gerdur was nervous and she paced a small line up and down, keeping her eyes on her when she stated, "The Thalmor are looking for you," and Minerva felt her heart plummet to her feet.

The color drained from her face when a heavy knock erupted on the door and she stopped right next to Gerdur. "Give me a sword!" she demanded.

Gerdur shook her head, "No. There are too many outside."

Another heavy knock erupted, more insistent than before.

" _Open the door!"_ an angry, high elven voice demanded, sending chills down her spine. She hated the voice of the high elves; it stirred so many memories, none of them pleasant.

Someone stormed down the stairs and she felt relieved to find Ralof walking towards her, his face set with purpose.

"Follow me," he said as he took her wrist and gently guided her towards the kitchen. He folded the rug in the corner only to reveal a trapdoor. She watched him as he climbed down the ladder.

Gerdur explained from next to her, "That trapdoor leads through a tunnel that will get you out of Riverwood."

Minerva stopped next to the trapdoor, with Gerdur at her side as she turned to face her. "Gerdur, what if something happens to you and Hod? I could never forgive myself."

A smile flashed across Gerdur's lips as she assured, "Don't worry, if it comes to that, Hod and I know how to wield a sword."

"Come on Minerva!" called Ralof from the tunnel impatiently as another knock bombed at the door.

Minerva hurried down the ladder, Ralof steadied her with his hands on her waist and helped her down. Gerdur waved and closed the trapdoor, leaving the two of them alone.

He rummaged through a huge chest next to the ladder, then turned to her with a sword and a leather armor in hand. "You probably wield staffs but I don't have any," he said apologetically as she accepted the things from him.

Smirking, she stated, "By the Nine, no staffs. I prefer swords," and she caught the smug smile tugging at his lips. Minerva quickly put the leather armor over the shirt and leggings she wore. Even though the armor didn't fit her perfectly, she found the familiar feel of leather on her skin oddly calming.

Ralof avoided looking at her and instead admired the sword he retrieved from the chest earlier. When she was done, he couldn't help but jest, "Now you look like you can kill more than a spider." She rolled her eyes but allowed a playful smile to tug at her lips.

"At least I'm not looking like a farm boy who just learned how to wield a dagger," she countered, referring to his clothes.

Ralof let out a laugh before he led them further into the tunnel. She glanced behind her shoulder from time to time, as if to make sure no one was following them. Having a tunnel going from your house to the outskirts of the city certainly proved useful, but it made her wonder, "Why does your sister have a tunnel going from her house?"

Ralof chuckled at her question ,"My sister is a little paranoid. She always thinks one step ahead and with the war raging, she can't be too cautious. The Thalmor are unpredictable, it is only a matter of time until they investigate Riverwood."

 _Investigate._ Minerva scowled at the word because she knew what exactly he meant by it. _More like purge the village of any Talos worshippers,_ she thought but left it unspoken.

The rest of their little journey both remained silent. No one followed them which meant the elves didn't find the trapdoor. Relief flooded her at the knowledge of having successfully escaped the Thalmor, again. But she caught sight of Ralof pressing his healthy hand into his injured shoulder, and grunted as he did so.

"Wait," she said and was glad when he stopped. He turned halfway to look at her, but his shadowed eyes, his tight lips and sharp breaths indicated that he was in pain. She stopped right in front of him and gently moved his hand from his injured shoulder; she inhaled sharply as she noticed the dark red patch on his bandage.

"You're bleeding," she stated as she slowly started to remove the bandage.

"What are you doing? I'm fine," he pressed, but Minerva pinned him with a look alone. Unfazed, she continued to remove the bandage, and when it fell completely it revealed the badly healed wound.

"Ysmir's beard…" she muttered under her breath and summoned her healing magic. Her hand barely touched his shoulder but he tensed and hissed through his teeth. "Hold still, it'll be over soon."

Her hands started to glow in a dim white light, and the wound started to heal before their eyes. Minerva didn't train her restoration skills, but she knew enough to heal non-life threatening injuries.

"You're a healer?" he asked bewildered as she was focused on closing the wound completely.

Ignoring his question, she was satisfied when the wound healed without any problems and said instead, "There you go."

"Thanks," said Ralof as he moved his arm up and down, and smiled broadly when he found the movements didn't cause him any pain. Both resumed their journey towards the exit, and Minerva sighed in relief when they saw the bright light coming from the end of the tunnel.

"Wait here," he whispered, then went outside to inspect the surroundings. Ralof was out for quite some time and Minerva started to pace a small line, but was relieved when he reappeared.

He grabbed her hand without warning and pulled her with him towards the exit. Her eyebrows arched in surprise as she felt his strong grip leading her out, and when they stepped outside she had to squint her eyes to see.

She looked behind her shoulder and saw Gerdur's mill in the distance. Ralof pulled her further and she looked forward. Several horses were tied to the nearby trees and Ralof went to one, untying the rope from around the tree. She quickly put two and two together and stopped next to Ralof to glare at him.

"You know these horses belong to the Thalmor?!" she barked, but he was unfazed by her anger and continued with the task. Thankfully, the horse remained calm.

"There is no other way out, currently," he stated, guiding the horse away from the others.

"Ralof…" Minerva was afraid. She looked behind her shoulder again, knowing they could return any minute.

She looked back at the horse and Ralof standing next to it. He begged her with his eyes to trust him as he held the reigns, waiting for her to mount the steed first. Biting her inner cheek, she did as he requested and mounted the huge, brown steed. Ralof followed quickly and she inhaled sharply when she felt his body right behind hers.

Just then the group of Thalmor emerged from Riverwood, they already galloped off to Whiterun when one of the elves yelled after them. By the time the Thalmor mounted their steeds, Ralof and Minerva were already out of their line of sight. Ralof guided the horse away from the main road, expertly maneuvering it through the forest.

"Don't worry," he assured as they took a sharp right turn, "I know these lands like the back of my hand. They won't follow us."

"I trust you," she said, blushing slightly. She didn't know where to keep her hands, and found that grabbing the saddle was the best choice. She watched his larger hands holding the reigns, admired their color and shape, and wondered whether they felt as rough as they looked.

She blushed even harder when he stated, "I'm glad you do," because it sounded a lot more intimate than it should. It was a confession; one she didn't know how to feel about. "We'll be in Whiterun in no time. Hold tight!" he yanked the reigns and the steed galloped even faster.

She resisted the urge to lean back against his chest as she let her thoughts wander. Knowing the Thalmor knew where to look for her chilled the blood in her veins. Even thousands of miles away from their kingdom, she still had to fear their king. She thought Skyrim was a isolated enough land that would hinder the Altmer kings reach, but she underestimated him. The thought made her heart race in fear and dread loom over her.

They left the lush forests of Riverwood and took the rocky path towards Whiterun. The lump in her throat grew, the tears behind her eyes accumulated until she could barely hold them back. She was too trapped in her dread to notice she was leaned against his chest as the walls of Whiterun came to their view.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly as he pulled at the reigns and the steed slowed down into a trotting pace.

"Yes," Minerva lied and blinked the tears away. "I am just wondering how the Thalmor knew where to look for me."

"You were at Helgen and escaped; of course they would look for you in Riverwood, first," he said.

But that wasn't what Minerva meant and she shook her head a little. "That's not what I meant. How do they know I am in Skyrim?"

Ralof was silent for a while as they came closer to Whiterun's stables. He pulled at the reigns and the steed stopped, before Ralof dismounted. Minerva did the same before she watched him throwing the saddle off the road. He gave the steed a few slaps to its back before it galloped off north. Minerva watched the steed until it disappeared into the distance.

The two walked next to each other as they passed the stables, her attention to the ground below her feet.

"The Thalmor are cunning bastards," he spoke lowly from next to her. "They surely had spies following you. I cannot think of any other way they could know about your presence here, in Skyrim."

"Skyrim is far away from the high elven Kingdom," she stated, looking up to see guards from the watchtowers keeping a watchful eye on them. "But it is also my home. That's why I came back."

Ralof stopped and so did Minerva, just before the drawbridge. He faced her when he assured, "Skyrim will be free of the Thalmor once we drive the Empire out."

Minerva thought about his statement for a moment, looking at the panorama before her. She didn't know much about the rebellion, didn't even know if they stood a chance. She turned to face him with a question on her mind, "This rebellion… do you think it will succeed?"

Ralof looked like she insulted him for a second before he looked determined, "Of course! Many able bodied men and women have joined the rebellion. They are all sick of the Empire dictating their laws. It is only a matter of time until we succeed." He motioned with his head towards the city, promising, "Come, I will tell you more once we inform the Jarl of the dragon."

Minerva nodded to that and they both went through the gates.


	3. A new purpose

The Jarl had already heard the rumors of the dragon attacking Helgen, but hearing it from someone who had survived the attack shocked him. Minerva knew he had a hard time believing her and Ralof, but it was the truth and she was glad that he believed them in the end. The court mage, Farengar, had sent her on an errand to retrieve the Dragonstone. Ralof wanted to accompany her, but the Jarl insisted he wanted to learn more about the dragon so he heavy heartedly had to stay behind.  
  
Retrieving the Dragonstone had been a thrilling and exciting adventure, made only worse by the fact that she had to face draugr for the first time in her life. She'd never fought undead before, and was glad when she came out of the ruin without so much as a scratch. She had also found a strange wall that contained ancient words. The power that radiated from the wall surged through her, making her feel stronger than before.  
  
She'd given the Dragonstone to Farengar as soon as she returned, and earned the Jarl’s praise and thanks for the effort, but there was no time to celebrate. The Jarl had disturbing news about a dragon attacking the nearest outpost.  
  
Irileth, the Jarl’s personal guard, was leading her, Ralof and a handful of guards to the outpost. Even from this distance, they could hear the roars of the dragon that flew above the outpost. Minerva swallowed hard as she watched the beast from afar. Facing a bear or wolf or draugr was nothing compared to a dragon.  
  
“Look at the size of it,” commented Ralof from beside her. He was staring at the dragon in awe, just as the others as they slowly erased the distance between them and the vicious beast.  
  
“It’s nothing I have ever faced before,” she admitted.  
  
They walked for another short while before Irileth stopped and turned to face them. Her voice was loud as she spoke words of courage, telling them they shouldn’t be afraid of one dragon facing twenty men. Minerva wanted to believe her wholeheartedly, but what were a handful of humans compared to a dragon? From all the legends and myths she had heard, they were unlike anything a normal mortal could defeat. Their Shout could tear their enemies apart. In this case, it would tear them apart.  
  
Irileth drew her sword and gave the all clear to attack. Minerva and Ralof did so as they ran after the guards who seemed too eager to fight the dragon. The dragon spotted them from afar and kept its deadly eyes on them. Like a statue, it gazed down at its enemies from the watchtower, unmoving and still, waiting for their desperate attacks. Minerva admired the beauty of this living being, while also fearing its might.  
  
Suddenly the dragon soared up into the skies and let out a loud, angry Shout that darkened the sky with black clouds.  
  
Heavy rain started to fall, making it almost impossible to track the dragon as it circled around the tower. Minerva watched the guards try to aim their arrows at the dragon, but it was too far away and too fast. Not knowing what else to do, she held her sword in one hand, in the other she prepared her fire magic and waited for the dragon to land so she could attack it. The guards held their aims at the dragon as it slowly descended down on the tower.  
  
The guards let their arrows fly with a roar, but the dragon didn’t even acknowledge them. Minerva watched in awe as the dragon kept its deadly gaze on her. Without looking away the dragon shouted again, knocking everyone down to the ground. Everyone, except her.  
  
“Faazrot,” it spoke, the dragon language carried across the wind and sent chills up her spine. “Tah do sahlag jul midrak dovah, athaal wah nahkip dii bahlok.” The guards were slowly getting up on their feet as the dragon continued to speak in the ancient language of the Thu’um. She knew it was addressing her, but she couldn’t understand one word. Even so, she wondered why the dragon even bothered talking to them.  
  
Suddenly it soared again, and everything around her died as she watched the dragon landing right in front of her. The ground shook violently below her feet and she stumbled, refusing to look away from the deadly beast that had its eyes on her. She knew she was caught like a prey, her body too crippled by fear to do something other than stare at the beast.  
  
“Nuz Zu'u honah lot suleyk ko daar gein,” when it spoke, its voice sounded softer, almost as if it was wondering about something. She had managed to take a few backwards steps before she stumbled over a stone, falling down on the ground hard. The dragon followed her and refused to look away.  
  
“Vust nii kos?” to her, it sounded like a question, but she didn’t give a damn. She stood up on her feet and glared at the creature, daring it to attack her. At least she would die honorably.  
  
But instead of attacking her, it growled, “Dovahkiin,” and she froze. The dragon said the word Dovahkiin while looking her straight in the eye. She knew from the stories her father had told her what it meant, who and what the Dovahkiin was. The realization terrified her.  
  
“Minerva!” shouted Ralof before he dug his battleaxe deep into the dragon’s leg. The dragon roared in pain before it flew up into the skies.  
  
The dragon landed on the destroyed watchtower and glared at its enemies. Its twisted, deep voice carried across the air as it spoke, “Petty humans! Your courage is build out of ignorance! I, the mighty Milmunir, will show you the powers of a true dovah!” As the dragon ascended into the skies again, his fire directed at its enemies, Minerva couldn’t do anything else but watch as it burned down everything and everyone around her. Screams of pain and fear echoed around her, the dragon letting out its furry with the breath of fire. She was too crippled by her fear to move as she watched the dragon flying towards her, readying the breath of fire again.  
  
Someone tackled her to the ground and the dragon flew just above them, the fire missing them by mere inches. Too dazzled to make out her surroundings, she was pulled back up on her feet by Ralof. “We have to bring it down!” he yelled and that’s when Minerva finally regained her senses. She was no coward, and she intended to prove anyone that she could fight.  
  
Quickly thinking of a way to bring the dragon down, she glanced around to make sure how many had survived the first wave of its attack. When she called for them, only ten men emerged, including Irileth. Half of them were already dead.  
  
“Alright, I have a plan,” she used the time the dragon flew around burning down the fields to tell the guards what she had in mind. “I will get its attention. You have to ready your arrows and shoot its wings!”  
  
Irileth shook her head. “It’s too risky!” she warned.  
  
Minerva turned her narrowed gaze to the Dunmer as she wondered, “So you have a better plan then?” When the Jarl's steward remained silent, Minerva returned her attention to the guards, adding, “I promise none of you will die! You just have to bring it down. Ralof and I will take care of the rest!”  
  
One by one the guards nodded in agreement. Sheathing the sword and summoning her fire and ice spell, she ordered the guards to get ready before she turned to the skies. “Milmunir!” she yelled, but the dragon kept burning down the fields, completely unfazed by her call. She had to think of something to get its attention.  
  
Swallowing hard, she decided to try something, even though she had little faith it would work. “The Dovahkiin challenges you!” she yelled into the sky and froze as she watched the dragon change its course.  
  
It descended just a few feet away from her. Minerva backed away without tearing her gaze from it but the beast followed her every step, not allowing her to escape.  
  
“Now!” she shouted and the guards emerged from their cover before they shot their arrows at its wings. The dragon couldn't have predicted their attack, and when the arrows pierced the tender flesh of its wings it roared in pain.  
  
“How dare you?!” it shouted, the ground beneath them shaking with the ferocity of the dragon’s voice. Minerva summoned her strongest fire and ice spell and released it into the dragon’s head, but the spell seemed to do little damage. Ralof came running from the side and cleaved the axe into its neck, earning another roar of pain from it. The other guards came at the dragon with their weapons drawn, all trying desperately to kill the beast.  
  
Minerva took her sword and ran towards the dragon as it was distracted by the guards, before she jumped onto its neck. The dragon tried to shake her off, but she slowly climbed up its scaly neck. Once she reached the head, she tightly gripped one of the scales and readied her sword with the other. She stabbed the sword into the dragons right eye before quickly pulling it out and stabbing it into its left.  
  
It shook its head violently and she was thrown to the ground. The dragon kept shaking its head and roaring in pain, the sound deafening. “Dur hi, Dovahkiin!” it yelled.  
  
Minerva didn't waste any second; she ran towards it and climbed the dragon’s neck, reaching the middle half of it before she stabbed her sword into the tender flesh. Blood seeped out of the wound as she dragged the sword down with her weight, until her feet touched the ground and she pulled the sword out. The dragon fell limp before them, even as the blood continued to flow she somehow expected it to attack them.  
  
Minerva stared at the dead dragons head and relaxed with each passing second. Its dead, she kept telling herself but somehow found it hard to believe, even if the evidence was right before her eyes. Suddenly its skin ignited and started to burn off of its bones.  
  
“By Ysmir...” said one guards before the others emerged, all watching the strange scenario unfolding in front of them. As the skin continued to burn off, she watched a wave of energy pass through her, filling her body with strength she had never felt before.  
  
All that remained of the dragon were its bones, everyone staring at the pile that, only seconds before, had almost killed them all. Ralof came up to her, his eyes looking her up in search for any wounds before he asked, “Are you alright?"  
  
Minerva, feeling dizzy from the overwhelming power, only managed to nod before she walked past him, ready to go back to Whiterun.  
  
“Dragonborn,” said one of the guards in awe as she passed them. Minerva froze in place and turned to glare at the guard who’d dared to call her the same as the dragon.  
  
Her eyes narrowed as she stopped in front of him, standing as tall as she could in front of the Nord when she asked threateningly, “What did you just call me?”  
  
The guard, clearly afraid of her, stuttered when he explained, “Only the Dragonborn of legend can kill a dragon by absorbing its soul. It's what you just did!”  
  
The other guards gasped and whispered among themselves. Irileth stepped up, pulling the crowd’s attention to her as she yelled, “Enough! We don't have time for fairy tales! We need to report back to the Jarl.”  
  
Just as the guards followed her order and dispersed towards Whiterun, an ethereal voice sounded from the heavens, the ground below them shaking.  
  
“Dovahkiin!"  
  
Minerva looked up to the sky in fear another dragon attacked them, and readied her sword and magic to fight it.  
  
“The Greybeards,” whispered Ralof, and her eyes met his. “They... they just called for the Dragonborn,” he clarified. She narrowed her eyes at him.  
  
Everyone was staring at her, every pair of eyes laid on her. She felt dizzy from the unwanted attention, and she slowly backed away. There was a question in Ralof's eyes but she turned and left towards the city before he could give voice to it.  
  
The recent events rested heavily on her consciousness as she reminisced about the dragon and how she, allegedly, absorbed its soul. She shuddered at the thought that the legend of the Dragonborn could have something to do with her. The thought that she might be the Dragonborn made her question the divines and their motives, and why they would choose the daughter of a farmer to bless her with such power.  
  
So much had happened today, things she wanted to forget but they rested heavily on her soul. She frowned, admitting that she needed a cold drink in order to process everything.  
  
####  
  
Several hours later…  
  
“There you are!”  
  
Minerva lifted her attention from the mug to find Ralof standing next to the table, his features relaxed. She groaned and emptied the mug in front of her before refilling it.  
  
She retreated to the Bannered Mare after she'd reported the death of the dragon to the Jarl of Whiterun. However, before she had managed to leave Dragonsreach, he'd bestowed upon her the title of Thane and had given her the housecarl, Lydia. Minerva didn't care for the title nor the woman, and she made her way towards the inn to drown her worries in the cheapest and distasteful ale of Skyrim.  
  
As time passed she understood the importance of the title but thanks to the ale she found quickly it had no importance to her. She didn't even spare him a glance before commenting, “I thought I made it clear that I want to be alone.” She hoped the dismissal was clear and he would leave, but she rolled her eyes when he took the seat opposite of her.  
  
He leaned forward, his voice soft when he wondered, “Do you want to talk about what happened?” She looked up from the mug and found he was genuinely concerned about her, but that didn't make it easier for him.  
  
“If I wanted to talk about it, I would've done so,” she retorted harshly, her eyes narrowing further when she added, “I don't. That's why I left without inviting anyone with me.”  
  
He sighed deeply, muttering, “You're sometimes as stubborn as a donkey,” to which her eyes widened in outrage.  
  
“Did you just call me a donkey?!” she growled through gritted teeth, the hand holding the mug starting to shake. She was ready to throw it at him if he didn't apologize soon, but all she received from him was his beaming smile.  
  
“Finally, a reaction!” he exclaimed. Minerva resisted the urge to spill the ale on his face for his insult, but decided he wasn't worth it. Throwing the contents of the mug down her throat before ordering another flask of ale, she decided to ignore him. However, that turned out to be an impossible task because he wouldn't stop talking.  
  
“Look,” he started, his voice barely above the bard's music. “I understand your reaction. The Greybeard’s haven't called for anyone in decades, and now they call for you when you kill a dragon. I understand that is a lot to process, but you have to understand what an honor it is to be summoned by the Greybeard's. You are chosen by them, you have to answer their call!” he said the last enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming with it.  
  
Although he tried to sound convincing, he wasn't succeeding. Minerva still had a hard time believing that she was the Dragonborn, and that everything had been just a coincidence. Doubt poisoned her thoughts when she wondered, “How do you know they called for me? How are we certain they didn't summon someone else who is the Dragonborn?”  
  
Ralof chuckled before he explained softly, “There is no doubt you are Dragonborn. We all saw what happened, how you absorbed the dragons soul. Believe me, there is no greater honor than the call of the Greybeard’s.”  
  
“Why don’t you go up to High Hrothgar?” she wondered, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, “It seems to me you would be too eager to go up there and train with them, even though you are a Nord. And Nords are warriors who rely on their brute strength, am I right? Using anything beyond your brute strength is considered weak by your race. Correct me if I am wrong.”  
  
Ralof furrowed his brows as he stared at the table, thinking about what she said before he answered, “We are warriors, yes, but the Way of the Voice is not taught to wage war.”  
  
Minerva watched him for a moment longer before she lowered her gaze to her mug. She didn't know why she was so afraid to accept the Greybeard's call. The Dragonborn was a legendary warrior who had always arrived in the end times to save the people from the World-Eater. Being Dragonborn meant being loved by the people, praised and cherished until the end of times. The Dragonborn was feared and respected by anyone, the strength of their Thu’um feared even by the dragons. Or at least, that was what her father had told her.  
  
His stories about the Dragonborn were full of heroic deeds and the people’s love for the legendary warrior. Minerva had always listened to the stories of her father in awe, always pictured herself as the Dragonborn and fantasized about the fame she would gain. Now, that fantasy threatened to become her reality, though she wasn't certain if she desired this life now.  
  
She emptied the mug and slammed it back on the table as the thoughts of her deceased father threatened to turn her into a crying heap. She swallowed the sour liquid and returned her focus to a worried Ralof when she growled, “As much as I enjoy talking to you, I would now ask you to leave me alone.”  
  
His expression fell with disappointment and he looked even more worried now. He shook his head slightly when he tried to talk her into visiting the Greybeard's, “Minerva, please think this through. If you are truly the Dragonborn, then you have a responsibility. You have a purpose to fulfill.”  
  
“I have thought about it, and I say that I don't care,” she admitted lowly, before filling the mug again. She raised the mug in mock salute before she emptied it, slamming it back on the table.  
  
The look on Ralof's face was that of utter disappointment as he slowly stood from the chair before he took his leave. Watching him leave didn't make the situation any easier to face, it made it only worse. An insistent cloak of sadness embraced her, she had never felt this lonely before even with the tavern filled with people. The loneliness swallowed the will to drink and Minerva pushed the mug away, then called for the waitress to pay. She threw a small gold pouch into the woman’s hands before she hurried out of the tavern, her mind blank.  
  
Doubt and uncertainty started to gnaw at her soul as she passed through the door, then walked the now empty streets of Whiterun towards the city gates. She had no idea where to go or what to do, part of her heart told her to answer the Greybeard’s but she refused nonetheless. After a while she marched through the city gates and came to a stop.  
  
Ralof was sitting on the stone wall, his arms at his sides as she looked at her. She walked past him without regarding him, and her annoyance grew when she heard him follow her. “I thought I made it clear to be left alone?!” she threatened without looking at him while she continued to walk.  
  
He was silently following her until they passed the drawbridge, she stopped and turned to face him. He almost bumped into her but managed to stop, asking, “Where are you going?”  
  
She continued to walk without answering him, and managed to take only a few steps before his hand pulled her to a stop. He turned her to face him, his face tight with concern when he pleaded, “Minerva, please, answer me.”  
  
Yanking her hand from his, she admitted, “To where I originally intended to go before the Imperials mistook me for a Stormcloak.”  
  
The wheels were turning behind his eyes as he thought, and realization dawned upon him when he remarked, “To Winterhold?” and Minerva continued to walk without any confirmation.  
  
The two continued their walk towards Whiterun's stables, the frustration bubbled inside of her because of Ralof's persistent presence, so she gave her best to ignore him. She remained silent when he kept following her, and only when he bought the second horse from the stable owner did she grow tired of him.  
  
“What do you think you're doing?!” she demanded as she held the steeds reigns, watching as Ralof mounted the bought steed.  
  
He didn't hesitate a second to answer, “To Windhelm. The roads are unsafe and it would be better if we traveled together.”  
  
Despite her foul mood, she was glad she didn't have to travel most of the way alone. He was right when he said the roads were unsafe, dragons, sabre cats and other wild beings could threaten her any time. With the two traveling together, they would have a better chance to reach their destinations unharmed.  
  
Minerva mounted the steed and the two trotted of to Windhelm, Ralof to join the Stormcloak's, and Minerva to resume her journey to Winterhold.


	4. Facing shadows

The wind whipped mercilessly over their faces, they were forced to abandon the horses and continue their journey on foot. It should have been easier to travel on foot, but it wasn't. The cold was unbearable, even a pure blooded Nord like Ralof couldn't stand the cold and the wind anymore. The blizzard devoured everyone weak enough and it threatened to devour them as well. They were only a couple of hours from Windhelm, but they were forced to camp for the night. Luckily, they found an abandoned cave; a couple of bedrolls were strewn over the floor covered in dust and grime. Bandits had probably occupied the cave before, Minerva concluded, because there were weapons secured on the wall and armor hidden in the wardrobes, but none of it mattered to her.

She thanked the divines for the few logs she found in the corner; quickly she carried them towards the fire pit and placed them around with shaky hands. She focused and summoned her fire magic, and within minutes the fire burned brightly. The sound of whistling wind reverberated in the cave as she sat by the fire, shivering, her arms only inches away from the fire. Ralof threw his backpack next to one bedroll before he took the space next to her, reaching his hands towards the fire as well.

“Stendarr's balls, it is cold outside,” he lightheartedly commented, rubbing his palms together before holding them in front of the fire again.

Minerva sat expressionless by the fire, her teeth chattering as her entire body shivered. Ralof was unaware of it and he spoke, “Windhelm is only a few miles away, I hate that we have to stay here and wait until the storm calms.”

She clutched the blanket tighter around her and curled into an even smaller ball beside him. Never had she experienced such cold before, even with the many furs and blankets draped over her she couldn't warm up. Blinking became a struggle as she stared at the fire, somehow hoping even the sight of it could help her warm up, but to no avail.

“Are you alright?” Ralof asked hesitantly when she remained silent.

Minerva wanted to answer, but no words made it past her lips. It felt as though her jaw was frozen and she couldn't speak nor move her head. The back of his hand came up to her forehead and he gasped, withdrawing his hand quickly as though she had burned him.

“Ysmir's beard you're cold as ice!”

She couldn't speak, her teeth chattered too violently and her body shivered in an attempt to warm itself up. Minerva was aware of Ralof standing up, she heard the rustle of clothes coming from next to her, but even if she wanted to she couldn't move her head to look. After a while she felt his presence again and shivered even more when she realized he was removing the many layers of fur from her.

She couldn't protest, but with every fur and blanket taken from her she felt as though she would die. Why he was taking the only source of warmth from her was beyond her understanding, but her body was crippled with cold and she couldn't move. His hands worked the straps of her armor, her boots, and then she understood; he was undressing her so he could use his body heat to warm her up.

She was too cold to care that she would be almost naked in front of him and he would be almost naked as well, and gasped when she felt his strong arms pulling her down with him. She was curled next to him on the bedroll as he moved the blankets and furs over them, Minerva unable to do anything else but watch how his muscles worked with each movement. Once they were both covered, he gently adjusted her head on the crook of his neck and wrapped both arms around her.

The fire burned brightly from next to them and as the seconds passed she felt the heat he radiated warming her. As her body temperature increased, she realized he was gently stroking the back of her head. It took a while until she stopped shivering and when she could finally move she scooped even closer to him, feeling how his warmth passed on to her. They remained like this, silent and still, for quite some time. Her eyelids became heavier by the minute as he continued to stroke her hair, the gesture suddenly too intimate.

“Are you feeling better?” he wondered softly and her stomach convulsed pleasantly at the sound of it.

She inhaled deeply and allowed herself to relax against him as she closed her eyes. It had been years since she had slept with someone, and never in her life did she sleep with someone she fancied. Every elf she had entertained were obsessed with her but she couldn't say the same. She had slept with them because she was forced to do so, not because she found them handsome.

Ralof was a handsome and good man; Minerva had never experienced kindness from another man except her father. Even when they had escaped Helgen together he had shown he was different. He was shielding her from the cold without any hidden thoughts, she realized, and she found the idea endearing. However, the thought that he expected something in return wouldn't leave her mind and she silently contemplated whether he desired her flesh as reward or not. He was only a man, after all.

“Minerva?” he called cautiously and she smiled, opening her eyes without moving from him.

“I'm fine now,” she assured, and found him relaxing as well

“Good.”

A heavy silence fell in the cave, Minerva gnawing her bottom lip for wondering whether he expected her to do something or not. He had helped her stay warm, it was only logical that he awaited a payment for his kindness.

Balling her hand into a fist on his chest, she wondered softly, “Could we stay like this… for a while?” and he chuckled at her request.

“Of course, for as long as you wish,” he whispered, placing a long kiss on the top of her head.

The crackling fire, the warmth that engulfed her paired with the exhaustion from the journey made her eyelids heavier by the minute. The steady rise and fall of his chest showed he fell asleep as well and Minerva smiled, feeling very content in the moment.

####

She awoke several hours later to the chilly breeze feathering over her bare arms and shoulders. Minerva lifted her head and rubbed her sleepy eyes before she blinked her vision clear. The fire had died long ago and the place beside her was empty. She glanced around and found Ralof rummaging through one of the chests, fully dressed.

He turned around with a few potions in his hands and smirked when he found her awake. He walked towards the backpack when he greeted her with a cheeky, “Good morning,” to place the potions inside.

Minerva pulled the blankets tighter around her and sat up, wondering, “Is it morning, yet?” to which he smiled.

“I don’t know, I haven't been out of the cave, yet.”

He collected her clothes from around them from the floor before he placed them next to her, stating, “Here. I’m going to take a look outside. I won't come back until you call for me,” as he kneeled in front of her.

She nodded and he stood up, fulfilling his promise and leaving her alone. Minerva waited for a few more moments, afraid he might reappear because he had forgotten something. But he wasn't reappearing even after a while and she stood up, letting the blankets fall on the bedroll. Goosebumps arose on her skin where the cold air kissed her and she hastily put on her clothes, then the leather armor and cloak before arranging the furs around her shoulders. Once she was done dressing, she called his name and heard his footsteps getting closer until he reappeared.

He stopped near the entrance, looked her over and nodded, as though satisfied with what he saw. He explained, “The weather is in our favor. We should reach Windhelm fast if we keep our pace.”

She nodded and collected her backpack before they headed out. The sun was high up in the sky, the snow reflected the light. They narrowed their eyes to see better, even the charcoal painted on their faces barely helped to dim the blinding white snow.

They found the main road towards Windhelm and the two continued their journey. They walked in silence, the sound of wildlife all around them, but it didn't take long until Ralof wondered, “Have you made up your mind? About the rebellion?”

Minerva exhaled deeply as she kept her attention to the ground below her feet, admitting, “I will join the rebellion, but I want to improve my magic before I do so.”

“Mage's are always a welcome help. You should not pay too much attention to what the rest of the people may think,” he stated and Minerva grew curious.

She wondered, “What do you mean?” and glanced briefly at him before looking back at her feet.

He sighed before he explained, “Many citizens of Skyrim still fear the mages for what happened with Winterhold. There are too many people not trusting the power of magic.” He silenced for a moment as he thought, and Minerva found the way he looked when he thought cute. “Personally, I don't think they were responsible for the Great Collapse. Ice shatters as easily as glass, and I think all that caused the collapse was Mother Nature.”

She smiled when she stated, “Then you are more intelligent than the rest of your race,” and allowed her own smile to widen when she heard his laugh.

“Probably,” he agreed happily, “Nords tend to think with their fists; I hope I have shown that I am different.”

Minerva smiled and couldn't help but look at him when she confirmed, “You have,” and their eyes locked.

For a moment, everything died around her and Minerva admired the pale blue, almost white color of his eyes. He looked pleasantly surprised by her statement and his expression softened when he refused to look away. His softening gaze became too much and she averted her attention forward, taking a deep breath as she focused on their surroundings.

She could still remember the feel of his skin against hers as they snuggled to warm her up. It had been strange for her, to lie next to a man without having to satisfy his needs, but she would be lying if she said she hadn't enjoyed it. To be safely hidden in ones embrace was something she had never experienced before. Her parents had hugged her many times and she had felt their love for her every time they did so, but this was different. Ralof was a man with no relation to her; he'd held her in his arms because he chose to and wanted to. The thought made her cheeks redden.

She sighed sharply and decided to block the thoughts, to focus on their surroundings instead. Foxes and goats would sometimes jump from their cover and accompany them for a while before they disappeared into the snowy forests. In the far distance, Minerva could make out the roar of a dragon, but she couldn’t see it anywhere near them. She glanced briefly at Ralof and he nodded that he heard as well, his brows furrowing in worry. If a dragon decided to attack them it would be a tough battle, but she was confident that they could slay the beast. She kept her senses sharp in case a frost troll or a pack of wolves decided to attack them, but sooner than she thought did the safe walls of Windhelm appear in the not too far distance. They walked the rest of the way to the stables and turned to one another, Minerva readjusting the backpack on her shoulder.

“Are you certain you don't want me to come with you?” he asked, worry darkening his bright features.

Smiling, she shook her head and assured, “I'll be fine. Winterhold isn't far.” She took a step in his direction, decreasing the space between them when she admitted, “Thank you, Ralof, for everything.”

He let out a small laugh, smiling brightly when he stated, “I hope to see you in Windhelm, soon.”

She smiled and stood on her tiptoes when she placed a small kiss on his cheek before she stood back on her feet. He blinked several times and looked bewildered when she clarified, “For good luck.”

“We’ll see each other soon,” she assured as she walked backwards before she turned around, still feeling his gaze burning her back as she took the road to Winterhold with a pleasant warmth burning inside of her.

####

Faralda led Minerva to her new quarter’s and immediately found she wasn't the only new student. Even though Faralda was polite to her, Minerva couldn't help but feel edgy the entire way towards the quarters. Seeing an Altmer still summoned unpleasant memories, even though a little more than two decades had passed since she'd successfully escaped from the isles.

The older mage left, leaving Minerva to her thoughts as she let the heavy backpack fall on the floor. She hung the cloak on a hook on the wall and decided to head out towards three other mages gathered at the center of the huge space. She recognized a Nord, a Dunmer girl and a Khajiit talking to each other and she hesitantly approached them. The three were immersed in their conversation and the Khajiit spotted her first. The others soon followed the Khajiit's gaze and all stared at her with masked faces.

Minerva stopped not too close to them and met everyone's gaze until the Dunmer commented, “Another newcomer.”

“There can always come more, Brelyna,” the Khajiit inserted, “We are certainly not the only mages left in Skyrim.”

“What's your name?” the tall Nord wondered, a small smile playing on his face.

Minerva opened her mouth to answer but she was interrupted by the Dunmer. “Are you happy to have a newcomer of your kind, Onmund?”

Onmund laughed lightly and Minerva realized he had to be the nicest of them. “She is not exactly 'my kind'. She is no Nord.”

“But she is a human,” inserted the Khajiit as he crossed his arms.

The smile remained on Onmund's lips when he said, “Of course, one with a name, I imagine.”

“Minerva,” she introduced quickly before anyone could interrupt her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Minerva, my name is Onmund. The Dunmer is Brelyna and the Khajiit is J’zargo.”

Minerva nodded to all of them before she averted her attention back to Onmund, wondering, “You are all newcomers?”

To which Brelyna answered, “We came here several days ago, but haven't started the lessons, yet. The teacher, Tolfdir, is out on a mission as I understand.”

Minerva let what the Dunmer said sink in before inquiring, “So we have to wait for him?”

“Tolfdir will return soon.”

The voice boomed though the empty hall and sent unpleasant shivers down her spine. Her eyes focused on the Altmer approaching them. Even now, she recognized their accent and their voices, and seeing the Altmer clearly dressed in Thalmor robes made her heart racing with fear. She didn't know his name, didn't even care to learn it, she just wanted him to stay away as far as possible. He stopped next to Onmund, opposite of her, and watched her wearily. Minerva felt like her old self again, scared and angry, as she felt the Altmer's eyes traveling over her body like bugs.

“I haven't seen you before,” the Altmer commented and Minerva instinctively took a backwards step.

She cursed Onmund's name inwardly when he clarified to the Altmer, “She arrived only minutes ago.”

“And what is your name, Breton?” The Altmer demanded.

Minerva took another step back and cursed Brelyna for answering him. “Minerva,” she simply stated and the Altmer's gaze narrowed.

He growled, “Are you incompetent to speak for yourself, girl?” to which Minerva flinched and shut her eyes tightly. She hated the voices of the High Elves; they sounded so full of arrogance and cold, as though they had no soul.

Luckily, the Altmer changed the subject and addressed them all, “You will start with your lessons as soon as Tolfdir returns. Am I understood?”

Everyone muttered they understood and the high elf left, finally. Minerva still felt on edge even after he had left the room, taking the tension out with him.

“J’zargo hates him,” the Khajiit muttered, crossing his arms, “J’zargo wants to bite him in the neck and let him bleed.”

Brelyna scratched her neck, wearily watching the door the Altmer just disappeared behind, “I don't like being around him. He makes me nervous.”

“The other mages agree. He should not be here,” Onmund declared, before he sighed in defeat, “But there is nothing we can do about it. For now.”

“Who is he?” Minerva finally managed to ask, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.

Brelyna clarified, “He is Ancano, a Thalmor delegate who oversees our training, and everything that is going on around here.”

“That means we will see him more often?” Minerva asked her heart racing in fear.

Onmund was quick to dispel her worries, “Don't worry; he is nothing more but a guest. He cannot harm us.”

There was nothing she could do other than trust Onmund that he was right. At least until she learned more about magic and became stronger so she could defend herself against him. She just hoped he wasn't connected to the Altmer king in any way; otherwise she would have to flee again. Minerva didn't want to leave her home, but if it came to it there was nothing she could do.

####

__Several months later..._ _

“Well,” Tolfdir started as he ran a hand down his silver beard, “That was close. Oh, wait, let me help you.”

He came to Minerva's side and helped her up after her failed attempt to do so herself. Her body was bruised and burned, every muscle hurt, but it was worth it. Ancano was finally dead, and she had never felt any more alive than in this moment. Minerva thoroughly enjoyed stabbing the dwarven dagger right in his heart, only pulling it out when his eyes rolled lifelessly into the back of his head.

Tolfdir steadied her and called for Brelyna and Onmund to help him sit her down. Nervously, Tolfdir informed, “I’ll go and find Colette. You wait here,” before he hurried away. Minerva groaned as she tried to move, not daring to look down on the huge, torn piece of her leather armor; she didn't want to see just how large the injury was.

Brelyna gently nudged her head back and leaned a small health potion against her lips, and Minerva sipped the strangely tasting liquid. The potion worked immediately and the pain in her body subsided a little, but it wouldn't be enough to heal her completely.

Onmund was kneeling in front of her while Brelyna was sitting next to her, holding Minerva close and steadying her. Minerva was aware of Onmund's beaming smile as he exclaimed enthusiastically, “You did it, Min!”

“I'm so happy that bastard is finally dead,” Brelyna commented from next to her, “How are you feeling?”

Minerva managed to grin a little, lifting her beaten head a little before commenting, “As if an angry mammoth stepped on me,” to which the two of them chuckled.

“You'll get over it,” Onmund inserted, “When Colette gets here you'll be healed in no time.”

“I just don't have any patience for her lessons right now,” Minerva joked, and the two laughed lightly.

Tolfdir returned with Colette and the restoration mage immediately went to work, her brows furrowed in concentration as she healed one injury after the other. “In all my years as a teacher I have never met such a reckless student,” she commented, pulling a smile from Minerva as her teacher continued to reprimand her, “Since you joined the College, there hasn’t been a single week that you didn’t need my healing.”

“I’m sorry,” Minerva admitted, her throat and mouth dry, “I promise to master to restoration art.”

Colette just shook her head and finished healing the wounds. She stepped back to give Minerva enough space to stand. The pain subsided completely and she trusted her own legs to keep her up, and found that she felt as though nothing had happened. Smiling, she admitted, “Thank you, Colette,” to which the mage nodded, even though she seemed irritated.

Minerva wiped the dirt from her armor before she glanced at the crowd that had gathered around them. The Staff of Magnus was still on her back, and she could see most of them staring at the brilliant blue color emanating from it.

Tolfdir cleared his throat and earned everyone´s attention. He took his time before he finally spoke, “Well, now that this mess has finally been dealt with, I think it's high time to appoint a new Arch-Mage,” and Minerva became aware of the tension lingering in the room.

“I am going to vote for you, Min,” Onmund whispered in her ear and she realized just how close he stood.

She turned her head enough to look at him, narrowing her eyes in a warning as she growled, “No, you will not,” to which he grinned.

“I am going to vote for you, as well,” whispered Brelyna. Minerva turned to glare at her and found J´zargo grinning beside Brelyna.

Minerva exhaled sharply and found Tolfdir looking at her. She swallowed, suddenly nervous as cold sweat formed on her forehead.

His voice was authoritative when he declared, “I have given the idea much thought and, with the current events and all, have decided to name our youngest student, Minerva, the new Arch-Mage of the College.”

Minerva's eyes widened as gasps and murmurs filled the room. She didn't know what to do other than give her mentor a stern look that said __'What the hell are you doing?__ ', hoping it would convince him to take back what he said, but it was already too late.

Colette stepped up and, surprisingly, was the first to agree to Tolfdir´s suggestion, “I agree. She has shown discipline and courage, and her will to master the arcane arts. Let us all hope she won’t die until she learns to heal herself properly.” Low laughter passed amongst the crowd and it pulled the corners of Minerva’s lips into a smile as she watched Colette.

“I vote for Min,” said Onmund from next to her proudly. “She is a powerful and skilled mage. She has learned a lot about magic in such a short span of time. And she dealt with Ancano, so I think it's only fair to grant her the title.”

Brelyna waved her raised hand, exclaiming, “I vote for her as well!”

More murmurs emerged from the crowd; their voices reverberated over the stone walls as Minerva tried to process just what was going on. Tolfdir raised his hands and silenced the crowd, clearing his throat before he wondered, “All right then. Does anyone disagree with the idea?” and patiently waited for anyone to voice their opinion. Minerva held her breath as she waited for any kind of reaction from her fellow mages, but when the crowd nodded, one by one, Tolfdir faced her and declared, “It's settled, then. You are the new Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. Congratulations, Minerva.”

Slowly each one in the crowd started to clap their hands until the sound boomed across the room. Minerva, still bewildered by the earlier battle, found it hard to comprehend the current situation. She realized she was named the new Arch-Mage, but it wouldn't quite reach her head. Onmund patted her shoulder and spoke how proud he was, Brelyna only smiled and J’zargo had disappeared earlier. Gaining the title of Arch-Mage had never crossed her mind before, learning more about magic had always been her main objective and that was all she had ever wanted. She didn’t know how to feel about her new title, but couldn't suppress the smile it provoked.

 _ _Minerva, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold,__ she tested the new title in her thoughts and couldn’t wait to pronounce it out loud. She would wait until she was alone, of course.

Tolfdir came to stand in front of her, smiling broadly even though it did nothing to hide the exhaustion when he stated, “Follow me, it is time to show you to your new quarters.”

“What about Ancano?” she couldn’t help but wonder as she followed Tolfdir.

“Well, I imagine Phinis will want to have the body for his practices. We cannot learn more about necromancy if we keep forbidding using it.”

Minerva silently nodded and thought about everything that had happened. Mirabelle died protecting the other students from Ancano; had she not returned from the blasted ruin when she did, the Thalmor agent could have easily blown up the College and the rest of Skyrim would again blame the College for the catastrophe. Losing Mirabelle was tragic and Minerva would make sure to honor her sacrifice.

Minerva decided to stay in Winterhold for a while, to help her colleagues and students recover and rebuild what was destroyed by the Thalmor agent. After that, she would head to Windhelm and hopefully become a part of the rebellion. She had promised Ralof to do so as soon as she gained enough knowledge of the arcane arts and after everything, she finally felt strong enough to fight.


	5. Haunting fears

Windhelm, city of Kings.

Minerva inhaled deeply as she stared at the tall, intimidating walls embracing the city. She had never set foot into Windhelm before, but could still remember the stories her father had told her about Windhelm and the former Jarl, Hoag, Ulfric's father. The walls stood taller than she ever imagined, their size and might enough to scare away possible intruders. With such mighty protection, there were only a handful of people who would dare attack the city.

Slowly she walked through the snow and towards the bridge, several Stormcloak guards patrolled the entrance to the city. Two more waited at the gates, their tall, trained frame almost frightening. Heavy weapons, either an ax or a greatsword were secured on their backs, along with a heavy bow and arrows. She could feel their eyes carefully watching her every move as she pushed the gates open. On the other side of the walls were more guards, but the citizens were unfazed by them. They went about their daily business, too focused on their tasks.

The inn was a cozy and warm place, she concluded, and smiled a little when she heard the music coming from upstairs, paired with the rough voices of Nords trying to sing.

"Hello," the woman behind the desk greeted, "Welcome to Candlehearth Hall, my name is Elda. How can I help you?"

Minerva walked over to the desk, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm up as she politely stated, "I would like to rent a room for the night, please."

Elda nodded, "Of course. It'll cost you ten gold pieces a night." Minerva placed the amount of gold on the desk and Elda nodded, "I'll show you to your room. This way."

They walked down the hallway and Elda entered the last room, with Minerva following inside. "If you need anything, just let me know," she informed before she left. Minerva let the heavy backpack fall on the floor before she threw herself on the bed, with the furs hanging down her frame. The bed was nothing compared to the bed in her new chambers at the College, but it would do for the night. She exhaled happily and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the solitude even with the music coming from upstairs, but soon the curiosity got the better of her.

She stood and removed the furs from her and placed them on the bed, revealing the leather armor underneath. Nothing but a dagger was secured to her waist as she left the room she rented and took the stairs to the upper level. The bard's voice carried over the room as she sang Ragnar the Red, dancing to the tunes of her lute. Men stood around her and clapped and cheered, and the bard seemed to overly enjoy the attention. Minerva kept her eyes on the scene as she leaned her back on the wall, crossing her arms. She was silently enjoying the song and watched the bard dance with amusement, but a man dared to step closer to the bard and grab her rear. The bard was offended and stopped the tune, reprimanding the fool for his action.

"You didn't mind the attention, earlier!" he exclaimed, his speech slurry.

The bard slapped the idiot and it only caused more mayhem; instead of admitting his fault, he grabbed the bard by her arms and yanked her hard, causing her to lose her footing and fall. She hit the floor, the lute almost breaking with the impact. The man grabbed a handful of the bard's hair and yanked her up on her feet.

Most of the men were laughing, some were insecure and frightened. Minerva wouldn't stand by and watch how the idiot abused the Dunmer bard, so she strode to them and demanded, "Let her go!" to which the man snorted.

He mocked, "Ooh, I'm going to shit my pants!" and the crowd roared with laughter.

"I'm warning you," Minerva growled and narrowed her eyes at the fool, "Let her go."

The man looked insulted, his expression narrowed until his eyes were two angry slits, but she was unfazed by it. The man demanded, "What will you do, lass?!" He let go of the woman and angrily strode towards Minerva. He laughed in her face when he stood right in front of her, mocking again, "Maybe you shouldn't threaten people stronger than you are. You don't want to lose that pretty head of yours." He pushed her roughly, she inched a few steps back but regained her footing quickly and glared at him.

Meanwhile the bard managed to leave the scene and the crowd had gathered around as Minerva faced the mountain of a man alone. The magic flowed through her body and accumulated into her hands, a blue light emanated from them showing the intense power she was focusing.

The man noticed the blue light and his eyes narrowed in disdain as he spat, "I'll teach you a lesson, you filthy necromancer."

Just then a tall, blonde man appeared and forced the other man back with nothing but his stare. There was a light note to his voice, one that Minerva recognized as soon as he spoke, "Come on, we all had our fun. It is time to stop. Return to our celebrations."

The man wanting to attack Minerva earlier growled and barred his teeth, but he obeyed and returned to the table where his friends waited for him. The tall blond turned to face her and there was no chance in the world she could suppress her grin, and he grinned as well.

"I already told you not everyone is fond of magic," he playfully reminded her, to which she rolled her eyes.

"I remember something," she playfully tapped her finger on the chin, as if she tried to remember his words. "However, I wasn't quite listening. The man warning me was quite stodgy."

He narrowed his eyes, but the smile gave away he was far from mad. Minerva followed him to where he sat and the two took their seats, both unable to wipe the smile from their faces.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she commented, "But it's good to see you, Ralof."

"I'll be honest, I didn't think I would see you anytime soon," he admitted as he leaned his hands on the table, "What brings you to Windhelm?"

She readjusted a little and scratched her chin, admitting, "Well, I'm ready to join the rebellion," and watched with amusement when his expression widened in surprise. "You are not on a mission?"

He shook his head, "No. My unit has just returned to Windhelm, along with general Stone-Fist. Currently, he is obsessed with finding the Jagged Crown."

Minerva leaned both her hands on the table, leaning forward as she curiously inquired, "Why would he want to find a crown so badly?"

Ralof lowered his voice when he elaborated, "This crown is legendary, it was worn by the ancient kings of Skyrim, but it disappeared from the face of earth. Galmar believes it would legitimize Jarl Ulfric's claim to the throne."

"A crown doesn't make a king," Minerva inserted, to which Ralof gave a laugh.

"That's the same thing that Ulfric said," he stated then shook his head, "But let us not waste our time talking about them."

They fell into a easy conversation, with both informing the other of what happened in the past few months. It wasn't in her attention to inform him of her title as Arch-Mage, but it slipped past her lips when they started eating the food they'd ordered. His eyes widened and he grinned, ordering a flask of ale to the table.

"That is astounding news!" he exclaimed, "Congratulations."

She blushed and tried her best to tone down her smile, but his reaction made her want to jump in glee. She appeared as laid-back as she could when she stated, "It's just a title. They could have picked anyone, I really don't know why they'd picked me."

He spoke with the mug leaned to his lips, saying, "It's because they know you're special," before he took a generous sip, never tearing his eyes from hers.

She frowned and muttered, "Nonsense," before she took a piece of meat, chewing it angrily between her teeth. She hated him for implying the call of the Greybeard's, wanting nothing more but to bury it in her past and never mention it again. Apparently, Ralof couldn't drop the subject.

He watched her for a while, one hand holding the mug while the other was leaned flat on the table, with him leaned comfortably in the chair as he moved his tongue over his teeth. She sipped her mug and looked away, and noticed the upper floor was almost empty before placing the mug back to resume eating her food. The bard returned earlier and played soft music on her lute, but a foul mood consumed Minerva. Why did Ralof have to mention the Greybeard's? Over the past months they had not once crossed her mind, and now that they did she couldn't stop thinking about that moment their voices had trembled the skies.

With her head lowered as she picked the food on the plate, she glanced up at Ralof and found him still watching her. She dropped the piece of meat onto the plate and sat straight, leaning back into the chair to look him squarely in the eyes. "What?" she demanded.

Ralof exhaled deeply and leaned a bit forward when he stated, "Nothing," and resumed eating the food instead.

Minerva tapped her finger on the table, her frustration over the subject growing. She decided to give him a piece of her mind. "The Greybeard's haven't been heard since," she stated irritated, "The true Dragonborn is probably already up there, training with them. Which means it is not me."

"The Greybeard's call only once," he stated with his attention to the plate rather than her. Lifting his gaze to her, he informed, "For me, there is no doubt you are Dragonborn."

Minerva felt the ire burning through her and she leaned forward, angrily holding his gaze when she hissed, "And yet, it does not matter what you think. There is no godlike power coursing through me." She leaned back into the seat and kept her eyes on his. Her thoughts were interrupted when someone joined them on their table, with several other men standing around them. It was the man Minerva had confronted earlier. With that realization she looked around and found they were the only ones on the upper floor.

The man turned to Ralof, "I know you are one of Galmar's trusted warrior's. That's why I am giving you a way out."

"A way out of what?" Ralof demanded as he fearlessly glared into the man's eyes.

A threat was hidden in his voice when he explained, "To stand up and walk away. She is a mage. She has no place here."

"She wishes to join the rebellion."

The man only laughed at Ralof's information, "Mage's are not welcome in our fight against the Empire!"

"That's not up to you to decide!" Ralof threw back and the man leaned threateningly closer to him.

"I'm warning you, Ralof…"

"And I am warning you, Rolo."

Both men sat and refused to break eye contact, Minerva was too enraptured by the scene and only became aware of the present when strong arms yanked her from the chair. Two men threw her to the floor but she regained her footing quickly. Ralof shot up to his feet to help her, but Rolo held a sword to his neck, preventing him from any further movement.

"I told you mages are not welcome. Nor wanted," Rolo warned.

Minerva glanced briefly at Ralof before she readied her magic in both her hands, one storm spell and one fire spell. The two warrior's were slowly circling around her with their weapons drawn. Minerva kept her attention on both of them, focusing her magic to the fullest strength. When the first warrior advanced, she unleashed her storm spell at him with all its might. The man shook violently with his sword held high, stopped mid attack, before he lifelessly slumped to the floor. The other one attacked, hoping to catch her off guard, but she caught him with her fire spell and he quickly followed his now dead friend as the stench of burnt flesh filled the room.

The man named Rolo watched in horror what was happening to his friends and Ralof used the moment to disarm him, now holding the sword to his neck instead. Ralof kept his attention on her when he spoke into Rolo's ear, "See? You may not like the mages, but they're stronger than us."

The rest of the group dispersed and Minerva relaxed, walking to stand in front of the captive Rolo. She opened her mouth to reprimand him for his stupidity, but the words died on her lips when the roar of a dragon boomed from the outside. She and Ralof shared a knowing look before he dropped Rolo to his knees and the two hurried downstairs. Scared people ran into the inn, the two squeezed their way through the crowd out of the building and both looked up when they were finally outside.

The dragon circled the skies above them as it growled, " _Dovahkiin,"_ while looking at her. She ignored the sickening feeling that suddenly surged through her, casting the ebony flesh magic as Ralof readied his weapon.

It circled above the city, evading the arrows and roaring before it flew towards them and they barely managed to evade its fire. Minerva could make out strange words coming from the dragon, but she couldn't understand them. The thought she could even comprehend the words irritated her as they both kneeled behind a stone wall.

The guards shot their arrows at the beast but to no avail, it was just too fast. "This one is even faster than the one we fought," Ralof commented from next to her while they both watched the creature landing on the walls of the city. "What should we do?" he wondered.

Minerva looked around as the horn sounded in the close distance and both peeked out of their cover. Jarl Ulfric, followed by a small army of heavily armed warriors, all directed their arrows towards the heavens.

"Pull!" Jarl Ulfric yelled with his sword high, and waited for the dragon to fly towards them. Minerva kept her eyes on the beast as it advanced towards them, headstrong and angry, and when the Jarl was certain it wouldn't change course, he yelled, "Release!" and the warrior's released their arrows. Few arrows hit their mark and the dragon roared whether in anger or in pain, but Minerva was jumping over the destroyed wall and already running towards the Jarl. The dragon would burn them if she didn't block the fire with a ward.

The warrior's raised their shields but that wouldn't protect them from the fire, Minerva readied her ward and it was at its fullest strength when she came to the group of soldiers, raising her open palms towards the beast's fire. The ward was only large enough to protect the ones close to her, the soldier's standing outside her protective circle had dropped their ignited shields, and thankfully their armor didn't catch fire.

Ralof emerged from the cover, out of breath asking, "Jarl Ulfric, are you unharmed?!" and Minerva realized she was standing just beside the Jarl. She gave his profile a quick once over before she turned to look at the dragon burning down the buildings.

"Your orders, my Jarl?" one of the soldier's demanded.

Before the Jarl could even muster an answer, Minerva turned to face them, a plan already put together in her mind. "Take your bows and arrows," she ordered, "I will imbue them with a spell strong enough to bring the dragon down."

Ralof's expression widened and he looked at the Jarl, who was suspiciously glaring at her, but he remained silent and the guards did as she ordered. She enchanted the arrows with a powerful storm spell and the guards readied their arrows towards the skies as Minerva lifted her hand into the air. "Pull!" she yelled.

"You realize what you did?" Ralof asked from next to her, whispering.

Minerva gave him a quick glance before she focused back on the dragon, admitting, "He can have us arrested _after_ we have saved his city," and watched as the dragon changed course and flew directly towards them. "Release!"

The soldier's released their arrows, few reached their mark and they burst with the storm spell on impact with the dragon's skin. The beast roared in pain and crashed into the wall to the harbor, destroying it completely. All of them charged at the dragon while it still recovered from the fall, Minerva readied the ward in case it decided to attack them with its fire breath. Few managed to get close to the angry dragon glaring down at them, including Ralof and Minerva, but few couldn't escape the dragon's fire and they caught up in flames. The stench of burnt flesh filled the air.

Minerva managed to climb onto its head, the dragon noticed her too late and it ascended in an attempt to shake her off. They were already high above the city as Minerva stabbed her sword into its neck several times, each hit causing the dragon to roar and lose on height. They crashed into another wall but did not damage it entirely, and Minerva summoned all of her magicka to burn the dragon with the ultimate fire spell.

" _Hin mul los nid,"_ it roared as it shook its head. Minerva cared less what the beast was saying, she only wanted to see it burn to death.

"Die, you damn dragon!" she yelled and unleashed the full strength of the spell. The fire engulfed the dragon entirely, strong enough to burn the iron-like skin from its ancient bones as its cries filled the air, almost deafening her.

" _Dur hi Dovahkiin!"_ it roared and shook so violently with its head that she couldn't hold herself any longer.

Minerva landed with a heavy thud on the snow covered, stone ground. Everything around her blurred and started to circle as she blinked to clear her vision. Slowly, she sat up and shook her head gently to clear her mind of the fog. It took her a moment longer to realize what was happening, but the ever increasing crowd, the ray of light coming from the dragon… horror consumed her as she watched the dragon's soul flow towards her. The power surged through her and the shock made her oblivious to the trail of blood on her forehead dripping all the way down to her chin.

As she slowly stood on her feet the dragon's soul surged through her, she could feel the power pumping through the veins in her body. Minerva watched her open palms, her body shaking, and her eyes wide with cold realization.

"By Talos…" one of the guards murmured, and Minerva shot her now deadly eyes at the fool, silently warning him to watch his tongue.

"She absorbed the dragon's soul," another one stated, earning her deadly glare as well.

"Shut up…" she muttered to herself rather than to the ever increasing audience. She hated the attention she was getting and couldn't understand their mind. She just killed a dragon and all they were focusing on was how she absorbed its soul?

"She is the Dragonborn!" a man exclaimed loudly and pointed his finger at her.

"I said shut up!" she summoned a ball of light to her hand, readying a mighty storm spell. She was ready to kill the idiot who dared to name her the Dragonborn, but the crowd parted and forward came none other than Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak.

Minerva froze and the magic immediately vanished from her hand as she stared wide eyed at the Jarl. He was pinning her down with a glare, silently daring her to kill one of his citizens. She didn't even dare to think of the punishment she would receive despite the fact she just saved the city if she indeed killed the fool

Ralof came to stand next to her, though her eyes remained glued to the Jarl. "Are you unharmed?" he asked breathlessly.

She couldn't pull her gaze from the Jarl even as she started walking away from the crowd and towards the city gates. A sharp pain shot from her head and she gasped in pain, her glowing hand searching for the wound on her head to heal it. Her hand remained on the wound as she casted the healing spell, feeling their gazes crawling on her back like insects and she prayed for the ground to swallow her. Shame filled her gut as she walked further towards the city gate and she couldn't resist looking over her shoulder. The Jarl was watching her, his narrowed gaze lingering on her steadily and she quickly averted her eyes to the path in front of her, unable to bear his suddenly judging eyes.

Luckily, she was soon through the city gates and strode the rest of the way to the stables, but someone was following her. Her irritation grew.

"Leave me alone," she spoke, knowing and feeling it was Ralof right behind her.

"Minerva, stop, please," he pleaded as they reached the stables.

She didn't want to hear why he wanted her to stop; she just mounted the steed and galloped off towards the road to Ivarstead. From there, she would climb the seven thousand steps and face the Greybeard's, even though the mere thought terrified her.

####

_Hours later…_

He was following her, she knew so because she could hear him maneuver the steed the same path she did. It irritated her to know he followed, but the thought of talking to him irritated her even more. All she wanted was to get away, from him and everyone she knew so she could find out why she absorbed the soul of the two dragons she'd slain, and why the beasts called her both _Dovahkiin._ Minerva couldn't be the Dragonborn, she couldn't accept the thought nor could she live with it. How could someone who has lived such a miserable life be the Nordic hero of legend?

She snapped out of her thoughts when the steed neighed strangely, and she yelped when it fell forward. Minerva landed on her side, but moved quickly to the steed to find it totally exhausted; white foam came from its mouth. The steed tried to get up, but fell right back to the ground.

"Easy," Minerva spoke softly and pat the steed's neck. It was breathing heavily and as she looked into its eyes she realized she had pushed it too far. Her anger had clouded her vision and she was too consumed in her rage to notice the horse needed a break.

Ralof dismounted the steed and came to crouch beside her, giving the steed a quick once over before he looked at her. Minerva didn't dare look up at him; instead she watched the steeds steady rise and fall of its chest.

"You have pushed the horse too much," he softly inserted to break the silence. He didn't speak for quite a while and Minerva watched as the horse relaxed more and more. "Ivarstead is not far," he added.

Without looking at him, she wondered softly, "How do you know I'm heading to Ivarstead?"

"It is either Ivarstead, or you are heading back to Whiterun, though I doubt the latter."

Minerva stood up, Ralof followed, but she kept her focus on the animal lying on the ground. "I don't want you to follow me," she expressed her wish and finally looked up.

He was staring in front of him, his shoulders moving as he sighed, admitting, "I know," before he looked at her, "But let me accompany you to Ivarstead, at least. Set the steed free and come with me."

She knelt and removed the saddle and reigns from the steed before she helped it to stand. The steed looked better and she patted its back twice before it trotted away. When the steed disappeared into the distance, she turned to Ralof, wondering, "How come your steed is perfectly fine?" and her question summoned a smirk to his lips.

"The way you ride is important," he stated, and she moved to mount the horse before he followed, sitting behind her just as the time they had both escaped from the Thalmor in Riverwood. The rest of the journey both remained silent, Minerva was too consumed by her thoughts about the future events. She suppressed the fear of what was about to happen with all her might, but her body continued to shiver as though she was cold.

Ivarstead came into view and she couldn't keep her thoughts to herself any longer. Suddenly she had such an immense amount of trust in Ralof that she felt confident enough to open up to him, and speak her fears aloud. "There is no way the Jarl of Windhelm will accept me into their ranks, now." Her gaze was distant as she spoke, her voice flat as though she'd already accepted the thought.

"Why do you think that?" he inquired softly, slowing down the steed so it walked.

Minerva inhaled deeply before explaining, "He saw how cowardly I left the city. Instead of facing the people proudly, accepting what had happened, I left with my tail between my legs."

"You are hardly a coward."

The wish to look at his face now was immense, but while they sat on the steed there was no way she could do so. Instead of inquiring further, she ordered, "Stop," and he hesitantly pulled the reigns.

The steed stopped and she somehow dismounted with him still seated on it. The look of confusion shone brightly in his eyes and she stated, "Let us walk the rest of the way," and Ralof dismounted as well.

He led the horse by the reigns as they walked the rest of the way to Ivarstead, and Minerva picked up from where they left. "You saw what happened. How am I not a coward?"

Ralof stopped and she turned to face him, his face was set with determination. She had never seen him look at her like this before. Her stomach convulsed pleasantly. "You have faced and slain two dragons," he started, never breaking their gaze, "You had the courage to escape from your captors. To me, you are no coward."

The honesty behind his words made her heartbeat speed up and blood rush to her cheeks. His speech rendered her speechless and it took her a second to break free of the spell he'd thrown at her. "I have waited two decades to escape from the Isles," she added, feeling incredibly small with that revelation. Remembering the life she was forced to live on the Summerset Isles still felt rough and she didn't think she would ever feel any different about it.

Ralof took a step in her direction when he continued to convince her, "To survive, you sometimes have to play by their rules, no matter how long it takes. That doesn't make you a coward, it makes you a warrior."

Looking at him became an ordeal, so she turned away and headed down the path towards Ivarstead, evading whatever he could say next.

"To me, you are the bravest woman I know," Ralof admitted, barely loud enough for her to hear.

She stopped and closed her eyes, feeling a pleasant warmth spread inside of her despite the chaos swirling in her mind. His words gave her an unexpected measure of comfort. She faced him and walked all the way back to him, mere inches between them as she stopped. Her heart thudded excitedly as she looked into his eyes, admiring their pale blue color. Few strands of hair stuck to his face but it only made him more handsome.

_Handsome… handsome…_

The word repeated in her mind, over and over.

Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed but it did little to bring the moisture back into her mouth. "You think too highly of me," she admitted, blinking rapidly but unable to break his gaze.

He erased the space between them some more and cupped her cheek. The intensity in his eyes stole her breath away as she listened to the rapid beat of her heart against her eardrums. This warmth he ignited within her engulfed her entirely; it was something she had never experienced before. No man had ever made her feel like this and she started to wonder why he made her feel like this.

Without having the chance to ask if he felt the same way, he dipped his head lower and kissed her. Minerva's closed her eyes as his hard lips lingered against hers, but softened with each passing second until they both relaxed against the other. Her mind went blank; her hand came up to his chest and grabbed a handful of the tunic he wore underneath the light armor. Feelings she had never felt before exploded in her chest, her thudding heart slowing the more she leaned into the kiss. Just as she was about to kiss him back, he broke the kiss but leaned his forehead against hers, his thumb stroking her cheek, and Minerva had never felt so treasured in her life. She enjoyed the way his breath was tickling her face, how gently he caressed her cheek, but it was her who leaned away to look into his eyes.

She released the tunic and leaned her hand flat against his chest, whispering, "You should go now," and watched the hurt flash behind his eyes.

She patted his chest and slowly took a step back, then another. His eyes were running over her form as though he committed her to his memory, looking as if he was afraid he would never see her again. His shoulders worked as he released a sharp breath, and the feelings he displayed earlier were gone.

"Alright," he sighed, then mounted the steed, "Take care. And good luck." With a departing look he left, trotting away into the distance the same path they'd came.

Minerva watched his form until he disappeared into the distance, releasing a long breath and with it, the feelings he had stirred inside of her before she faced the mountain. The Throat of the World. She would meet with the Greybeard's and see where destiny would take her.


	6. The offer

_**Chapter warning: adult themes near the end  
** _

_####_

_Several months later..._

The last bandit finally fell dead and Minerva dispelled her magic. Her eyes scanned the room for any loot, but nothing particular caught her attention. She went over to the huge chest in the corner, but all she found were old silver wares and a few coins. She took the coins, but left everything else behind.

Lydia took the greatsword from the bandit's chieftain dead body and inspected it with a grin. Minerva gave the place one last look before she decided it was time to leave. "Let's go," she informed and Lydia secured the sword on her back.

The two made their way out of Nilheim and headed back to Ivarstead, to inform the citizens the bandits wouldn't trouble them any longer. The way back out was filled with a comfortable silence, Lydia rummaged through the few chests and urns they found on the way but found nothing particularly interesting. Minerva was waiting for her friend at the gates and Lydia hurried to her before they exited the fort. It was nighttime and Minerva frowned because they had taken up too much time killing the bandits.

They mounted the steeds waiting outside and galloped off towards Ivarstead, silently maneuvering through the rocky path. Several rabbits and foxes accompanied them, but something was off. She glanced behind and met Lydia's gaze, and her housecarl nodded suspiciously. Minerva averted her gaze to the front, focusing on the path in front of them. She squinted her eyes to see better, but gasped when an arrow hit her steed right into the neck. The steed neighed and fell over, dead, and Minerva landed on the ground hard but recovered quickly. Lydia was quick to dismount and hurried to her thane. Minerva stood, with her sword in one hand and magic ready in the other, Lydia stood with her greatsword drawn. Dark figures revealed themselves out of the bushes and trees, their arrows pointed at them.

"Minerva Sable-Shield," one of them spoke, and Minerva immediately recognized the voice of the high elves. "Drop your weapons and no harm will come to you."

"What do you want from me?!" Minerva demanded, aware of Lydia's back pressing against hers.

"You are going back to the Isles with us, the king demands it."

Fear stabbed her gut and sent her heart racing, but she would rather die than go back to the king. She looked behind the elf standing closest to them, counted the others and found they were outnumbered, but their numbers didn't scare her. She used the power of her voice and tore the elf to pieces, his comrades watched the scenario and fear flashed on their faces. The fear quickly faded into anger and all the elves attacked. Minerva and Lydia worked in unison to kill them, but their enemies knew how to dodge and fight back. The battle would be a tough one to win.

The neigh of another steed caught her attention and she noticed someone jumping off it to join the battle. From their built she could tell he was a man, but the cloak hid his frame and face as he advanced into the battle with his ax drawn. He attacked the elves and Minerva felt a pang of relief, at least he wasn't attacking them. The greatsword Lydia had found on the dead bandit chieftain served her perfectly, it paralyzed their enemies and it made it easier for them to finish them off. Minerva used her magic to kill the last of the elves, turning the woman into an ice statue. Her mouth was frozen open, caught mid scream, before Lydia shattered it.

The two looked around the battlefield and nodded to each other when they were certain everyone was dead, except for the mysterious man. Minerva crossed the few steps to him, his back was turned to her but before she could act he faced her. She pressed the tip of the sword into his neck. Lydia appeared behind him, the tip of the greatsword pressed against his back. He had nowhere to go.

"Show yourself if you want to live," Minerva barked, pressing the sword just a bit stronger into his neck.

The man raised his hands in surrender, still holding the weapon. The free hand came up to the hood and pushed it back. It took her a while, but realization dawned quickly upon her and she gasped.

"Ralof?!"

She withdrew the sword and finally dispelled her magic, telling Lydia, "It is alright, he's friendly," and she hesitantly stepped away without securing the greatsword to her back.

"You mean you know him?" she wondered.

Minerva nodded, unable to look away from him, "Aye. However I must admit it I didn't think I'd see him again."

"I could say the same," he dreamily replied and smiled, adding, "But it is good to see you."

"What are you doing here?" Minerva demanded with her arms crossed. Although she was relieved to see him, she couldn't help but feel there was more to this encounter.

Ralof raised his brows and glanced behind his shoulder at Lydia before looking back at her. Minerva understood he wanted to speak to her alone, but not in the middle of the road. There could be more of the elves after them.

"Let's go," Minerva suggested and pointed with a nod towards the road to Ivarstead.

Lydia grabbed the reigns of the steed and walked first, with Ralof and Minerva behind. Ralof was leading his own steed as he slowly walked beside her without uttering a single word. Walking like this next to him made her slightly nervous and she did her best to focus forward. They hadn't seen each other since she left for High Hrothgar and the memory of the kiss just before she'd sent him away caused nervous butterflies to fly in her stomach.

"Is that your companion?" he wondered without looking away from the path in front of them.

Minerva kept her attention forward as well when she replied flatly, "A friend of mine, yes," and hoped to drop the conversation at that.

They quickly reached the little town and immediately headed for the inn. Minerva wanted to take a seat on one of the free tables, but when she met Ralof's warning gaze her own alarms went off. With a look alone she tried to convince him to tell her what the matter was, but he stubbornly refused and left her no choice. She told Lydia to take a seat on the nearby table while she ordered a room for them to talk. Her housecarl hesitated to agree and she suspiciously eyed Ralof over several times, but she agreed in the end. Minerva went to the counter and asked for a room, and the innkeeper led them to the free room in the corner.

Once they were alone, Minerva leaned her hand on the pommel of the sword and faced him, feeling very anxious. Ralof noticed her hand on the pommel, but refused to comment.

"So," Minerva watched him suspiciously, "We're alone."

Ralof eyed her a moment longer before he moved closer to the desk, removing the cloak hanging from his shoulders and placing it on the surface. It revealed the steel plate armor he wore underneath and Minerva admired the excellent state of it. Even though she considered him a friend, she couldn't help but feel anxious around him in this moment. Something was off and very different about him, and unless he explained she would continue to feel so.

His gaze was focused on the cloak as he started, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to upset you, but this is important information." He leaned his rear on the edge of the desk and crossed his arms, the armor rustling with each movement. Minerva grew even more impatient and shifted, unable to quell her nervousness.

Thankfully, Ralof continued, "I have been searching all over Skyrim for you. Every time I think to find you, you are already gone."

"Why have you been looking for me?" she interrupted, sounding irritated. She wished he would just say what he had to say so she could continue her journey.

Ralof smiled but it vanished quickly, and he took a deep breath before elaborating further, "Word of your deeds carry quickly. Jarl Ulfric has heard of the Dragonborn and sent me to recruit you for our cause."

Her mind went blank with that revelation and a chill crawled up her spine. The information baffled her and she shook her head to free her mind. Her arms fell at her sides, her hands turned into fists, as she inquired, "How does he know who I am?"

Ralof's face hardened, as though he was cautious to choose the right words before he revealed, "He remembers you from Helgen, and he remembers the way you killed that dragon in Windhelm. He knows you are Dragonborn because he saw you absorb its soul. Even after months, everyone still speaks of it."

Minerva wanted to vomit, a sudden hand gripping her stomach and twisting it until it almost started to hurt. She turned away from him, letting everything he said sink in before she closed her eyes. The memory of how cowardly she left the city replayed in her mind, she clearly remembered the disdain in Jarl Ulfric's eyes. She ran away from her destiny and he saw right through her fear. How was she supposed to look him in the eye?

"Why?" she spoke before she faced him again, a sudden ire burning in her gut, "Why does he want to recruit me?"

Ralof let out a small laugh as though she asked something stupid. She glared at him. "You are Dragonborn," he simply clarified, "Isn't that reason enough?"

"I am more than just the Dragonborn," she argued back, her patience slipping, "I am the Arch-Mage, I am the thane of Whiterun, liberated numerous forts from the hands of Necromancers!"

"And he has heard all of it," Ralof inserted calmly. "Because of that, he wants you to fight with us."

"But I am also a coward," she added softly, suddenly feeling the will to fight slip away. She couldn't look him in the eye anymore and lowered her head to look at the ground. "I ran away from my destiny… from who I am. I am no warrior."

Ralof sighed and sounded stubborn when he reminded her, "I already told you, you are no coward, but a warrior," and Minerva's stomach did a pleasant flip.

She sighed and the will to argue with him further slipped away, and she thought about the proposition. With everything she had accomplished in the past months, she was now ready to join the rebellion and help drive the Empire out of Skyrim. She was strong enough to face whatever the Empire or the elves could throw at her. She would be a tremendous help to the Jarl and his men, and would surely grant him an advantage.

Even though she felt confident enough, she could still feel the shadow of shame looming over her. The memory of the Jarl's eyes filled with disdain was just as vivid as was Ralof standing before her now. The fact that she was Dragonborn should boost her ego and confidence, but it did nothing.

"I will join the rebellion, but there are things I need to finish, first." _And gather my courage to face the Jarl,_ she thought but left it unspoken.

Ralof nodded, relief bright on his features. "Aye, I will tell the Jarl so," he informed, however she had no idea why that information upset her.

"Don't tell him that," she sounded more desperate than she wanted to. Ralof's brows furrowed, his face tensed and she tried to explain the reason of her reaction, "I still have some things to deal with. Tell him you couldn't find me."

He looked very displeased with her request, explaining, "He will send me out again. As much as I am happy to see you, I would rather be on the field fighting Imperials."

"Ralof…" she sighed, not knowing how to find a compromise that would benefit them both. Not knowing how to win him over, she simply asked, "Why don't you visit Gerdur?" and watched how the idea softened his features.

He looked like he would disagree again; she watched the wheels turning behind his eyes as he thought. To her luck, he sighed and scratched the back of his neck and agreed, "I suppose I could pay her a visit."

Relief washed over her and she couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Ralof," she expressed her gratitude and it pulled a smile from him.

They stood like this watching each other without saying a word, both unable to wipe the smiles from their faces. Ralof was a good man and she was more than grateful to have met him.

The memory of the kiss replayed in her mind again as she watched the icy spark in his eyes, and she could feel her cheeks redden a little. The reason behind the kiss was still oblivious to her and she found the necessary courage to ask why he'd kissed her at all. Inhaling deeply, she wondered "Why did you kiss me… before I left for High Hrothgar?" and watched how the question threw him completely off guard.

He looked bewildered for a moment, but recovered his resolve quickly. He inhaled deeply and thought for a while, the serious set to his features caused the wrinkle to appear between his brows. He looked utterly handsome like this and she felt her heartbeat elevate.

Something clicked behind his eyes as he looked like he found the right answer, stating, "I didn't know when I would see you again, and if there would be another opportunity."

"But that doesn't really answer why, does it?"

He sighed, "No… I guess not," and he remained silent for several seconds. His voice was a lot softer when he added, "You are a beautiful woman, Minerva, and if I had the chance I would kiss you again."

Her heartbeat sped up and the warmth his statement ignited within her consumed her entirely as she allowed herself to really look at him. Unashamed, she stared at his every wrinkle, every scar and admired the complexion of his skin, and the way his pale face was framed by his blonde hair, his thin lips and the scar on his right cheekbone. The more she looked, the more she couldn't ignore the desire to have him.

In all the time she had spent imprisoned on the Isles, she had not once been with someone _she_ fancied. Even the thought of sleeping with someone she found attractive felt surreal, but now that she started to entertain that idea she couldn't stop herself. Everything about Ralof pulled her to him and she bit her lower lip when she came just a bit closer. He noticed the decreased proximity, but never looked away from her eyes. And then his eyes flickered to her lips. Minerva couldn't look at this man any longer without knowing if he wanted the same thing.

"What if…" she started lowly, the words meant only for him, "The chance presented itself right in this moment?"

She watched the icy color of his eyes being swallowed by the ever increasing black of his pupils, the sight of it made her insides flutter and her toes curl inside her boots. Her lower lip was trapped between her teeth and the action pulled his gaze from her eyes to her blush lips. He looked bewildered, entranced, as he moved, his gloved hand resting on her cheek while he craned his head to brush his lips against hers. He gave her lips another peck, and another, before he kissed her harder and with a passion Minerva had never felt before. Eagerly she parted her lips and met his tongue with her own, lazily sliding her tongue against his. A strong euphoria consumed her as he moved the hand from her face to hurriedly remove the gauntlets. Minerva did the same with her own gauntlets and, once freed, she rested her hands on the shoulder plates to keep her balance. His hands followed the shape of her back until they rested on her rear, squeezing her cheeks hard with both his hands. The action caused her to moan in his mouth and he eagerly swallowed the erotic sound.

Her hands moved clumsily over the steel armor to undo every strap holding it, but Ralof still seemed a bit hesitant. He'd removed her shoulder blades and freed her arms of the leather pieces, but he didn't proceed further and she pulled away slightly to look into his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he inquired, sounding as cautious as he looked.

She nodded hastily, swallowing to keep her voice from shaking as she assured, "Yes, I cannot imagine walking away, now. I want you, Ralof."

He took a firm hold of her rear and lifted her in his arms, gently lowering her to sit on the desk. He began to kiss her again as his hands moved over her armor, undoing each strap and button holding it together. Minerva wished she had his expertise, all she could do was tilt her head back so he could have better access to her neck and moan to his every kiss and bite. Roughly she helped him tear the rest of the armor off of her until she was in her leggings and undershirt, but Ralof still had most of his armor on.

He leaned away enough to help her remove the rest of the pieces, each piece falling with a loud thud on the floor. When the last of the pieces fell, he spared no second to pull the shirt he wore over his head, exposing his torso to her. Minerva gasped and she greedily put her palms flat against his pectorals. He was so warm and handsome, and she felt her mouth water as she gazed upon the perfectly trained torso.

"Lie down," she told him softly, pushing him in the direction of the bed as she slid of the desk.

Ralof looked amused as he allowed her to push him back, but he couldn't help but question, "What are you going to do?" pulling a smirk from her.

"Just lie down."

The back of his knees hit the bed and he sat with his rear, looking up at her. Quickly she removed her knee high boots and took her time pulling the shirt over her head, only to reveal her bare torso and breasts to him. He stared at her newly exposed flesh, unashamed, and moved his hands to touch her but she swatted them away.

"Lie down, I said," she commanded, and he did as she demanded without looking away from her exposed skin.

When he was comfortably lying on the mattress she crawled her way up to him, lowering her lips to just below his belly button to kiss the skin there. He tensed and watched with his mouth open as she undid the belt before pulling the trousers down his legs, along with the boots, leaving him completely naked. Minerva moaned and licked her lips when she gently took hold of his erection, giving him a few firm strokes before placing a kiss at the precum covered tip.

She enjoyed the way his eyes rolled back and his head landed on the pillow, his chest moving with every labored breath he took. The abdominal muscles tensed and moved as she took as much as she could into her mouth. She never got to enjoy such a beautiful man before. While some of the elves had beautiful faces, their bodies were nothing extraordinary. Ralof had the body of a deity, the mere sight of it made the desire burn bright in her belly.

She sucked at the tip and his hips twitched in response. She loved the way her caress affected him, how his body tensed the more she showered him with affection. Her head bobbed up and down his erection as she swirled her tongue on the underside, confidently bringing him closer to the edge, wanting nothing more but to taste his release. Her head was yanked back forcefully and Minerva's eyes met Ralof's; there was a darkness swirling in them she had never seen before and it only served to arouse her further.

Keeping a firm hold on her hair, he guided her to lie on the bed next to him before he readjusted between her legs. Only then did he let go of her hair, to undo the belt and pull the leggings down. Once she was fully naked, he gazed upon her as though she was the only truth for him and the mere sight of how he looked at her made her cheeks red. He leaned forward and captured one nipple with his teeth, the other he teased with his fingers, and the caress drew moan after moan from her. While he was teasing her breasts, he slipped his free hand down her body, following the shape of her stomach and hips, and he ran a testing finger against her slit. A shudder passed through her and she opened her legs even further, silently begging him to do more.

"You are already wet," he murmured against her skin, pushing one finger into her warmth.

She found enough strength to keep her head up, to watch him kiss her breasts, as he slowly pumped one finger in and out. Though when he added another finger, she could barely think. Sadly enough, he withdrew too soon and readjusted as he moved up to kiss her. She bit his lower lip when she felt the tip of his erection press against her entrance, and exhaled sharply when he began to enter. Her mind went completely blank.

"By the Nine," she gasped as the full length of him penetrated her in the most beautiful way.

He stilled completely when he was buried inside of her and leaned his cheek against hers, breathing heavily down her ear as he grabbed her thigh. Minerva felt the length of him pulsing inside of her, desperately she wanted him to move and she moved her hips to urge him on. He growled and bit her earlobe, thrusting into her. She saw stars behind her closed eyes, and each time he moved he created a friction so satisfying she knew she wouldn't last long.

None of the men or Mer she'd slept before could compare to this, never had she felt so full before and never had she received an orgasm that quickly. She could feel the tension start low in her belly, could feel the tingle starting from her toes and go all the way up until it engulfed her completely. Ralof was pulling all the way out, then back in completely, and he didn't even move that fast as the white hot heat exploded in her belly. She was gripping at his back, his hair, gently bruising his scalp as the orgasm came in waves.

"So sensitive," he murmured against her ear as he slowed his pace, "Is it that long since a man took care of you?"

She couldn't answer, she was still feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm as he kissed her, stilling completely. Her heart thundered against her chest as she slowly came from the heights of bliss, enjoying the way he showered her with kisses. The orgasm was mind numbing, deafening, so intense she could barely catch her breath. Slowly he pulled away and broke the kiss, and when their eyes locked, she smiled dreamily at him.

There was only one thing on her mind, and she whispered, "I want to ride you."

Her request stirred something dark inside of him and he obeyed, quickly adjusting on the bed. Minerva quickly climbed on top of him and guided the tip to her entrance, before she slowly lowered herself on him. She tested the new position, slowly moving her hips forward and back to feel just how deep he would reach. The line between pleasure and pain was thin, and she was barely moving.

She arched her back and gradually quickened her movements, digging her nails into his abdomen as she sucked on her two fingers. This felt too good to stop, even though he reached too deep. The familiar tingle of an oncoming orgasm already started to move up her toes, slowly engulfing her entirely. He moved his hands up her thighs, gave them a squeeze before he snaked them up her stomach to cup her breasts. He pinched her hard mounds, inciting a series of moans as he continued to massage them. To add to the pleasure, she moved her hand to where they were joined and circled her nub. She quickened her pace.

"Minerva," Ralof growled and her eyes fluttered open; his face was tense, his muscles taunt. He was visibly struggling to focus, to not end before her, and the sight of his flushed face and narrowed eyes did incredible things to her insides. Ralof was a strong man and to know she pushed him to his limits as she rode him made her fuck him harder. Despite her wish to make him break first, she gasped as the second orgasm hit her. Everything started to spin as she rode to prolong the feeling, very aware of how she wasn't able to contain her moans.

Ralof shuddered underneath her and she opened her eyes as she was half conscious from her orgasm. He was emptying himself inside of her, Minerva could feel the throbbing of his erection and she clawed at his chest as she slowed her movements. His eyes rolled back and she leaned down to place a kiss on his lips when both of them stilled completely. She sighed against his shoulder, happily spent before she slid to lie next to him.

She stared at the ceiling as her breathing slowed as well as her heartbeat, unable to wipe the smile from her face. She looked to her right and found Ralof happily watching her, the same dreamy look in his eyes. He scooped close and cupped her breast, kissing her shoulder and Minerva's eyes fell shut at the caress.

"You know," he started lowly, his breath tickling her shoulder, "I didn't expect to end up with you like this."

"Do you regret it?" she asked with an arched eyebrow as she looked at him, and then added with a chuckle, "Was I that bad?"

"No, and hell no," he quickly retorted, to which both of them chuckled.

He was kissing her shoulder as she glanced at the door, a thought flashing in her mind. "We should probably get back. Lydia is waiting."

"Who?"

"My friend," Minerva left the spot from next to him, immediately feeling the loss of his warmth as she sat on the edge of the bed. Ralof sighed and followed, and the two started putting their armor back on.

Once everything was secured, Minerva nodded to herself and faced Ralof who was securing the battleax to his back. His focus was on the task when he wondered, "Where will you be heading next?"

Minerva thought for a while, she planned to head to Riften and see whether there was any work available, but she didn't feel comfortable telling him the truth. She feared he would tell Jarl Ulfric of her whereabouts, and the last thing she wanted was someone going after her.

She lied, "I need to go to Morthal, help an acquaintance." Ralof let what she'd said sink in, then gave a nod of understanding. The two moved to the door and Ralof grabbed the door handle, but refrained from opening it. She glanced at him and found him watching her with a serious set to his face. She frowned, feeling alarmed as he kept staring at her without saying anything, as though he was contemplating whether to let her go or not.

Luckily, he started to speak before she became even more anxious, "Be careful on the road to Morthal. There have been increased sightings of Thalmor on the roads. They are probably looking for you."

Even though the warning disturbed her, she wouldn't show it. If the Thalmor were stupid enough to haunt her, she would gladly fight back and relieve them of their misery. She rolled her eyes then looked at him, reminding him, "I am the Dragonborn, remember?" and watched the frown on his face deepen. Before they would waste even more time, she assured, "I will be cautious, but as you can see I don't travel alone."

Ralof nodded, and thankfully he opened the door and the two stepped out, Minerva noticed Lydia seated on one of the tables, a flask in front of her and mug in hand. The housecarl flashed her a smile before offering them both a seat, which they declined.

"Let's go," Minerva inserted, and Lydia quickly gulped the contents of the mug before jumping out of her seat.

The three stepped outside and walked towards the stables, Minerva was very aware of Ralof and fought hard to act without giving away what had happened in the bedroom not even an hour ago. Everything felt sore, especially between her legs and she felt her stomach flip pleasantly at the memory of how well he'd filled her. She wondered if they would ever repeat the encounter.

They bought a horse from the stable owner, Ralof watched her as she mounted the steed and she looked down on him. The sight of worry tensing his face made her want to dispel it, even though it wasn't hers to worry about.

"I'll head to Windhelm, soon," she promised with a nod as Lydia trotted away.

Ralof nodded, looking not less worried as he stepped closer, softly saying, "I can't wait to fight Imperials with you at my side. Take care, and watch the skies."

Minerva blushed slightly at his words and pulled at the reigns, turning the steed to the other side. Never did she look away from him as she stated, "You too, Ralof. See you soon."

And with that she followed Lydia, and the two of them left towards Riften, ready to embark on new adventures.


	7. Oath

Minerva had entered Windhelm in the dead of the night, and now stared up the protective walls of the palace as the cold wind blew along her cheeks. The two guards posted at the gates to the palace simply glanced at her. Just as she'd promised Ralof so many weeks ago, she came to Windhelm as fast as she could, but she refused to inform him of her arrival. She wanted to do sthis on her own, without him ma,king a big fuss out of it.

Releasing a sharp breath, she pushed the gates open to reveal the grand hall of the palace of the Kings. Her eyes immediately scanned the throne and was disappointed to see it empty. _What else did I expect,_ she asked herself, but noticed a man standing not too far from the throne. She could hear muffled voices coming from a room not too far from her, but she approached the man for now.

The man was reading a parchment, but tore his attention from it to her when he heard footsteps. Minerva straightened her spine and stood as tall as she could, but the man was clearly taller than her.

He smoothed his beard and gave her a quick once over before he spoke, "Greetings, traveler. What brings you to the palace in the dead of the night?"

The man welcomed her kindly and sounded sincere. Minerva squared her shoulders and straightened her spine when she stated the reason of her visit, "I'd like to join the rebellion."

He looked her over again, as if trying to tell whether she was honest or just messing with him. He kept smoothing down his beard when he admitted, "That is surprising news," and Minerva refrained from rolling her eyes. Giving a nod more to himself, he added, "But I am not responsible for recruiting new blood into our ranks. You will have to talk to general Stone-Fist." Pointing with his hand to a archway behind her, Minerva looked at it briefly before looking back at him. "You can find him there in the war room."

She was about to head towards the archway but a tall figure stepped through it. He carried a huge ax on his back, and had a bear pelt drapped over his head and shoulders. The man she talked to earlier sounded from behind her, informing, "Ah, we have a newcomer, it seems." The warrior ran his suspicious gaze over her and Minerva felt his eyes crawling over her skin. He stopped not too far from her, his mere height enough to intimidate anyone who wasn't experienced enough with a weapon. Minerva bravely met his gaze. "Where is Jarl Ulfric?" the man asked from behind her.

"He's had enough for the day," the man, who she suspected was general Stone-Fist, answered and crossed his arms, never looking away from her. Minerva didn't like the way he was looking at her. "Now tell me, why does a Breton want to join the rebellion?"

She held her head high when she answered, keeping her gaze leveled with his despite their height difference. "The reason's are my own, but I can slice a Thalmor's throat just as good as any Nord could."

Galmar laughed mockingly at that, "Harsh words for a whelp. You may have armor on, but you don't look like you could wield more than your tongue." He started to circle around her, the hairs on the back of her neck reacted to his every movement. Her hand came to rest on the pommel of the sword secured on her waist.

His voice boomed across the hall, "As much as we need fresh blood in our ranks, we won't recruit just anyone. You have to prove your skills first before we decide whether to accept you or not." He finished when he stopped in front of her.

Minerva remained silent and refused to react to his mocking words. She knew her qualities, knew that if she mentioned she was Dragonborn they would immediately recruit her, but that she wanted to avoid. She wanted them to accept her because of her skills, not because of her title.

"What do you want me to do?" the general's offer had piqued her curiosity and she couldn't help but ask.

Galmar was quick to elaborate, "Go to the Serpent Stone and kill an Ice Wraith, but bring its teeth to me. If you survive, we will consider joining you into our ranks."

Minerva watched him wearily, wondering whether there was a catch to the general's request. The task itself sounded mediocre, but something didn't feel right. Either way, if she wanted to drive the Empire out of Skyrim, or at least help to do so, she would have to face it.

"Very well," she agreed nonetheless. The general silently watched her depart and Minerva was aware of his eyes on her back. Or maybe he was checking her out? She shook her head, hoping it wasn't the latter.

She'd put on her cloak and hood once she was outside, and she journeyed towards the island. Reaching the Serpent Stone would be difficult because it was surrounded with the icy northern sea, with no clear path to it. She would have to use a boat to reach it. Hopefully, she would return with the teeth of an Ice Wraith in her inventory by noon, and hoped to hand it to the Jarl of Windhelm herself.

####

It was noon when she finally returned to the Palace, and she couldn't be any more relieved as she pushed the gates open. Once inside, she rubbed her palms together in hope to warm them a bit. Her body shook as she removed the hood covering her face, looking up only to see a few people occupying the table in the hall. Her eyes darted across the room and found the general seated near the top.

She approached, glad he'd noticed her without her having to come any closer as she held the cloak tightly around her neck. "I see you've returned in one piece," his gruff voice sounded across the hall, "I take it you have killed the beast?"

Minerva nodded, still shaking as she became aware of their eyes directed at her. "Killing the beast wasn't the problem," she spoke through chattering teeth, only to provoke a laugh from the general.

"Of course. Getting to the blasted stone is the real challenge, not facing the Wraith."

She smiled in challenge, feeling her freezing lips crack with the effort as she commented, "Many of the warrior's would disagree, general. Men have lost their limbs thanks to the beasts bite."

"If you lose a limb to the beast, you're not Stormcloak material," the general retorted, sounding annoyed by their repartee. Minerva decided to drop the subject and allowed herself to look at the other's seated at the table. Her heart plummeted as she noticed the Jarl of Windhelm seated at the top, watching her carefully. She quickly lowered her gaze to the various foods on the table and her stomach growled; it occurred to her she hadn't eaten properly for hours.

She decided to take her leave and escape his penetrating gaze, but the Jarl was faster when he spoke, "You have a long journey behind you. Have a seat with us, there is plenty of food to share so help yourself."

Minerva wearily watched him, gauged his invitation, but found no harm in it even though she craved to decline. It would be impolite to reject the Jarl's offer to lunch with them. She hesitantly walked to sit next to what she guessed was his steward opposite of Galmar, and removed the cloak from around her shoulders. The fire pits burned brightly around them, and she didn't feel as cold anymore as she threw the cloak over the chair before taking her seat.

Carefully she eyed the food on the table, before deciding to take some cooked meat and grilled vegetables. The other's ate with her, falling in a comfortable conversation, thankfully leaving her out of it so she could eat without being disturbed. However, she couldn't help but wonder whether the Jarl recognized her. It had been several months, maybe even a year, since she had slain the dragon in Windhelm. If he recognized her, he didn't show it, and Minerva was very happy because of that. As she enjoyed the meal and drank some mead, she warmed up and didn't feel as cold as she did when she'd entered the palace.

Minerva chewed on a piece of meat as she brought the mug to her lips, noticing the general's eyes on her. She watched him over the mug and took a sip, while the general was absent mindedly chewing on the piece of bread.

He spoke after he swallowed, taking the mug as he stated, "You returned from the island in one piece. It seems you're not a lost cause." He took a generous sip and placed the mug back, adding, "You can take the oath, now."

Alarmed, she slowly placed the mug back on the table and held the piece of chicken between her fingers as she wondered, "What kind of oath?" before resuming to eat, but never tearing her eyes off of the general.

Galmar leaned back into the chair, leaning his hands flat on the table as he regarded her fully. Minerva could sense a lot of disdain coming from him and he wasn't afraid to show it as he explained a bit irritated, "You must swear loyalty to Ulfric Stormcloak, future High King of Skyrim, and to our cause. Only then will you be considered a true Stormcloak."

Minerva smiled lazily as she thought about his words, unable to hold back her retort, "Loyalty cannot be guaranteed with an oath. It can be broken, just as any promise."

His deadly eyes locked on hers as he leaned forward, growling, "Yet you must take the oath in front of Ulfric and myself, for then I have one more reason to shove my ax into your skull if you decide to betray us."

Her lazy smile widened and she dropped the piece of meat on the plate, taking the cloth to wipe her mouth and hands clean. Gently she placed it on the same spot she'd took it from and faced him again, stating, "If it will make you sleep better, I will take the oath now."

Galmar stood, towering over everyone seated at the table. Minerva titled her head back to watch him for a moment before she stood as well, briefly glancing at the Jarl to find him watching her. She looked Galmar squarely in the eyes as the general spoke, "Repeat after me. I do swear my blood and honor to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak…"

Minerva repeated the words, fully aware of the Jarl's eyes on her. It made it hard for her to concentrate.

"…Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim.

"As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond…

"…even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms.

"All hail the Stormcloaks, the true sons and daughters of Skyrim!"

Minerva repeated the verse not as enthusiastically as Galmar, and he eyed her over before he nodded slowly. "You are a Stormcloak now," he stated as he retook his seat. "Congratulations."

"There are free beds in the barracks," Jarl Ulfric spoke, his attention to the steward, "Jorleif will show you."

Jorleif stood, wiping his hands clean before he stepped away from the table. Luckily, Minerva wasn't as hungry anymore as she glanced at Galmar. The general met her gaze when he added, "We will head out on a mission soon. So be ready."

Withou saying anything to him, she averted her attention to Jarl Ulfric and bowed her head in farewell. "My Jarl," she said, taking the cloak from the chair, before following Jorleif towards the barracks.

They took the stairs to the lower levels and followed a fairly lit hallway until they came to a room with four beds inside. He guided her to a empty chest and handed her a key.

"This chest is empty, you can store your valuables here," he informed.

Minerva took the key from him and glanced at the bed; it was nothing extraordinary, but it would serve its purpose.

"Thank you," she thanked and received a smile from him.

"My pleasure. You can also use this bed whenever you like. Let me know if you need anything."

She nodded to that and the polite steward left. Minerva stashed a few valuables inside the chest, mostly potions and jewelry she wouldn't need at the moment. Once the chest was locked, she looked around the room and wondered whether the other beds were taken. Not knowing what else to do, she made herself comfortable on the bed and closed her eyes, her thoughts drifting back to the last time she'd seen Ralof several weeks ago. It made her wonder where he was and if she would see him more often now that she joined the rebellion. It also made her wonder whether they would repeat their previous encounter, and the thought stretched her lips into a smile.

The earlier journey finally took its toll on her and not long after she fell asleep, in the leather armor. Luckily, the nightmares of her family's murder evaded her and she had a good few hours of sleep, but she awoke with a gasp when someone knocked so loud it almost smashed the wooden door. Quickly she rubbed her eyes and stood from the bed as the door opened, only to reveal the general stepping in.

"Gear up," Galmar's gruff voice resonated in the room, "We're heading out."

Minerva almost had to run to keep up with him as the two took the same path back to the throne room. They made a beeline for the war room and Minerva couldn't help but ask, "Where to?"

"To our next mission," he dismissed, and Minerva rolled her eyes.

The Jarl was hunched over the map and briefly glanced at her before he regarded Galmar completely. Galmar stopped opposite of him and she caught the Jarl watching him with a snarl.

"This is ridiculous," Ulfric commented, pushing himself up from the table to stand straight.

Galmar leaned his palms flat against the wooden surface, assuring, "It will be there, Ulfric."

"Of course, along with a horde of draugr and Imperials!" Ulfric argued back. Minerva shifted, still unaware of everything. The Jarl glanced briefly at her again before wondering harshly, "And you're taking the Unblooded with you?"

"It's a chance to test her skills in person," Galmar inserted, but then his voice turned serious when he added, "The crown will be there, no doubt! When have I ever failed you?"

The Jarl still didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue back which meant he finally accepted whatever Galmar was promising him. So they would be looking for a crown, one that was important enough for the Stormcloaks to rally to search for it.

Ulfric stated, "A crown doesn't make a king, Galmar," only to earn the general's snort.

"But this one would legitimize your claim. The Jagged Crown heralds back to a time before jarl's and moots." Minerva raised her eyebrows at that, and the general continued, "Back to a time when a king was king because his enemies fell before him, and his people rose because they loved him."

The Jagged Crown had been lost for centuries, no one knew of its exact location and so the crown became a legend. If Galmar indeed found it the crown would grant them more respect from the people.

"Fine,"Ulfric agreed harshly, "For your own good, I hope we're not wasting our time."

"Threats don't scare me, Ulfric, you should know that," Galmar pushed himself off of the table and moved past her, calling, "Move, Breton, we have a crown to find."

Minerva bowed her head to the Jarl, he acknowledged her with a nod and she followed Galmar out of the throne room. The cold weather banished what little sleep was left and she pulled the cloak around her shoulders tighter. The snow didn't hinder his steps, she realized, as she became aware of the fact she could barely keep up with him. They quickly reached the city gates and once they stepped out of the city, Minerva gazed upon the group of Stormcloaks that had gathered, waiting for them.

Galmar regarded them when he stopped in front of them, with Minerva in tow. "Listen up, Stormcloaks. We are heading to Korvanjund to recover a important artefact." Minerva wondered why he refused to reveal what exactly they would be looking for. "There is a chance we will bump into Imperials guarding the tomb."

The group let out a too enthusiastic roar, showing they were too eager to face their enemies and finally Galmar led them towards the tomb. Luckily, the group didn't navigate as fast as Galmar did moments ago, but despite of it she still had her troubles traversing through the thick snow.

They talked amongst each other, barely giving her any attention at all, but Minerva couldn't blame them. As she looked at the group, she realized she was the smallest of them so no one paid her too much attention. To them, she was a mere Breton who thought she knew how to fight. How wrong she would prove them once the fight started.

They headed towards Whiterun, but didn't take the path towards the city. Eavesdropping on the two Stormcloaks next to her, she found out the tomb was northeast of Whiterun. She tried to remember if she had already explored the tomb, but found that she couldn't remember this particular path. It took them several hours until they reached the hidden Stormcloak camp close to the tomb, and when they arrived Galmar instructed they would attack in the morning, when everyone was at its best.

Minerva sat close to the fire and warmed herself up, feeling even colder as she watched several Stormcloaks having only their armor on with no undershirt. Two women were dancing in circles, their mug held tightly in their hands, a crowd had gathered around them and clapped to their show. They were obviously enjoying themselves and she wondered how they could remain so calm with the threat of dying looming over them.

She looked further around the camp, and someone tapped a finger on her shoulder. Looking up, she noticed a Stormcloak handing her a bowl with steaming hot stew, and she gratefully took it. "Thank you."

The Stormcloak went to share the food to the rest, even holding the wooden bowl made her warmer and she slowly started to sip away the food. As she enjoyed the hot delicious meal, she watched the two women who'd been dancing earlier enjoying themselves with some manly company. One was straddling his hips as they kissed greedily, the other was entertaining herself with two men. Minerva looked down at the bowl, knowing it wasn't her business to look.

Her attention was drawn to Galmar's tent as he talked to a tall, blonde man, and she squinted her eyes to see better. She guessed they were discussing the oncoming mission because Galmar was pointing out things on the map sprawled before him. When the blonde man rounded the table Minerva could fully recognize him and a grin exploded on her face; it was Ralof.

So they would be heading out on the mission together, and even the thought made her heart race with a childish anticipation. After a while, Galmar and Ralof stepped out of the tent simultaneously, and thankfully Galmar dispersed in a different direction. Minerva kept her eyes on Ralof's, hoping he would feel her eyes on his and look at her. Whatever they had discussed earlier, however, was consuming his thoughts and he walked away without ever looking up from the ground.

Minerva decided to let him be and instead focused on the flames in front of her, wondering about the oncoming battle. They had only a few hours left before they would advance on the tomb, to retrieve the crown and strike down the Imperials. Minerva was ready.


	8. Revelations

Galmar was walking a line up and down in front of the soldier’s, fully armored, and Minerva stood in the first rows with her arms crossed to block the cold. Ralof did notice her earlier, but there wasn’t enough time to engage a conversation with him.

“The tomb was sealed off for centuries,” Galmar spoke, “There is a very high chance of draugr residing inside. We strike true and fast, and we will be back at our camp in a matter of hours. Am I clear?!”

“Aye!” The Stormcloaks announced eagerly, pulling their weapons free from their holsters. Minerva noticed there was not a single mage amongst them except her, which made her wonder how in the world they planned to take out the draugr's magic, or the Imperial battlemages. As much as the Nords hated the mages, they would need magic to fight magic, their sheer strength wouldn't be much of a help.

Galmar gave the all clear to attack and each of the soldier’s roared as they ran towards the tomb, with Minerva closely behind them. The Imperials up on the rocks readied their bows and pointed their arrows at her comrades, but Minerva shot each of them down, either with an Ice Spike or a Firebolt. Battlemages were soon on her, directing their focus from the other Stormcloaks solely on her.

Minerva used Dragonskin and felt their spells empower her strength. Each time she countered she managed to land a direct, deadly hit, and their numbers started to deplete quickly. Few of the battlemages were stronger and more cunning, they managed to either block or dodge her spells. To kill them would take too long, she realized, so she decided to change her course of action.

She channeled her magic and summoned a daedric ax while keeping up her strongest ward as she approached them. The Imperial battlemages drew their daggers and shortswords after they noticed their spells vapourized against her ward, but steel was nothing compared to the might of a summoned weapon. One by one they fell to the ground, the ethereal ax slicing through their skin as if it were butter. As the last battlemage fell, she looked around and noticed there were only few Imperials left. The Stormcloaks took care of them quickly.

Once the area was cleared, Galmar ordered few of the Stormcloaks to stay behind and guard the entrance of the tomb. He and the rest, including Minerva, made their way inside Korvanjund. Ralof was with them, she realized, as he stood next to Galmar and another Stormcloak. They would cut the way to the crown together.

“Breton!”

Galmar's voice echoed through the cave and she instinctively approached him. He clarified once she stopped in front of him, “Stay sharp for enemy spells.”

Minerva nodded, and Galmar turned towards the small group behind him. He informed, “The deeper we go, the more draugr we’ll face along the way. Stay sharp.”

The trio, along with a group of Stormcloaks, made their way deeper into the tomb, encountering both draugr and Imperials on their way. Their further approach was hindered by the puzzle door Minerva was all too familiar with, so she didn't waste any time and searched for the claw. The Stormcloaks looked for clues and in the corner she noticed the bodies of two dead Imperials. Getting closer, she noticed one of them had their fingers wrapped around the claw. Forcefully she tore the stiff fingers from the claw and looked at its underside as she headed for the puzzle door.

Minerva turned the symbols on the door in the correct order before pushing the claw into the socket. The stone creaked and rumbled, the dust clouded the air as the mechanism pulled the door down. 

They encountered more draugr along the way but no Imperial soldiers, and Minerva guessed they hadn't had any luck to solve the puzzle door. They made quick work of the draugr, but a Stormcloak was injured. If his grunts and ragged breaths were any indication, she guessed the wound had been a deep one. Minerva went closer to him to inspect the damage; his thigh had been sliced open. There was no chance he could accompany them further.

“Leave me,” he said through his agony. Minerva kneeled next to him as she removed her gauntlets. The soldier looked up at her but didn’t say anything as Minerva brought her glowing hands closer to the torn flesh. She barely touched the gaping wound but he was tense and hissing in pain.

“It’s almost done,” she assured him as the wound began to heal and close in a matter of seconds. Once healed, she put on her gauntlets and stood up.

“Thank you, Miss,” the man thanked, sounding much calmer now that the wound was healed.

Minerva nodded and smiled, and couldn't help but notice how Galmar had his eyes on her looking very suspicious. She was partially ready for him to question her abilities, but luckily they continued their journey without much discussion. From there it didn't take them long to reach the crypt and Minerva came to a stop as she felt the familiar thrum of power pulsing through her body. A word wall. She inhaled sharply and looked around the room, immediately spotting the huge throne in the center with a draugr sitting on it.

“There it is.” Galmar spoke in awe. A huge crown rested on the draugr's head, inviting everyone to take it.

Just as Galmar moved in its direction the coffins all around the room fell open and heavily armored draugr stepped out. The draugr sitting on the throne stood up as well, raising its ancient battleax to attack.

Galmar ducked just before an arrow could pierce his head. Minerva drew her sword, Ralof his ax before all of them ran into battle.

The draugr were strong, agile, their swift attacks making them tough enemies to fight. Minerva managed to slay several draugr, always making sure to help the Stormcloaks close to her and once she was certain their numbers had depleted a bit, she scanned the place for Galmar. The general was fighting the draugr overlord and had a hard time dodging its attacks. Minerva shot an Ice Spike into it, successfully peeling its attention from Galmar to her. She summoned her ethereal ax as the draugr approached and the first blow she blocked from it almost knocked all strength out of her.

The draugr overlord was strong, she admitted as she dodged a wave of attacks before she dared to counter, successfully ramming the ax into its ribs.

“ _Ahk sahlo,"_ it growled.

_Too weak._

Minerva pulled the ax out of it and dodged another of its attacks. She found it irritating that an undead found her to be weak, and intended to prove just how wrong it was. She found an opening and rammed the ax into its shoulder, but the draugr seemed unaffected by it.

Instead, its dead eyes stared at her when it said, “ _Qiilaan us dilon!_ ” and she barely managed to dodge the shout it released.

_Bow before the dead!_

Regular blows wouldn't kill the draugr overlord, she realized, so she dismissed the ax and decided to fight it with magic.

“ _Dur hi diil!”_ she barked only to summon a smile on the undead creature. She dodged attacks and whenever she could she threw a mighty fire spell at it. The fire had a greater effect on it than a weapon, but it wouldn't be enough to destroy it.

A scream echoed in the cave and she immediately looked toward its location. Terror overwhelmed her when she saw Galmar and Ralof surrounded by draugr, barely able to keep them at bay.

She abandoned the draugr overlord and hurried towards them, her magic burning down several of their enemies once she got close enough. She noticed Ralof had a hard time standing and when she took a better look she noticed the huge stain of blood on his abdomen. He fell to the ground, unable to stand anymore.

“Ralof,” she kneeled down next to him as the others fought off the remaining draugr, but the overlord was already making its way to them. Hastily she removed her gauntlets and summoned her healing magic as he coughed blood.

“Hurry Breton!” Galmar yelled.

Minerva spared the general a quick glance, and noticed he was facing the overlord on his own successfully peeling its attention from her, but she could already tell he had a hard time fighting it. Minerva closed her eyes and focused, the wound would heal in no time but she needed to concentrate in order to be fast. Her attention was torn from her task however, when Galmar’s grunt of pain echoed in the cave. He'd been knocked down and the overlord didn't waste a second to head over to her. The wound was halfway closed as she abandoned Ralof, summoning her ethereal ax to fight the undead warrior.

Every attack she dodged wore her down, every hit she managed to land weaker than the one before, the draugr overlord felt her depleting stamina and overwhelmed her with a barrage of attacks. Minerva blocked as much hits as she could, but the undead managed to slice a wound into her thigh deep enough for her to fall on one knee. She held her ax high as the draugr overlord brought down its weapon, the hit almost knocking all strength out of her. With quivering hands she held its ax in place. Regular weapons and magic wouldn't kill it, they were all too exhausted to fight the draugr overlord until its death. There was one thing that will save her.

She dreaded using the Thu’um in front of other people because it would compromise her identity. Although she'd never been in such a deadly position before. She needed to act.

“ _Liz-Slen-Nus_!” she shouted and watched as the draugr overlord became a statue of ice. The realization hit the beast too late; when it started to move, to break free, the ice had already reached its head until it consumed it entirely.

With her remaining strength she stood on wobbly legs and swung the ax at the ice statue, shattering it to pieces. She breathed heavily as she glared at the heap of ice pieces strewn on the ground, relieved that the overlord was finally dead and they could resume their quest. The crown was somewhere on the ground, she remembered it flying off of the draugr's head as it fought, so she went to search for it. The pulsing pain coming from her thigh however, prevented her further steps and she removed her gauntlets to heal it.

She watched in satisfaction as the wound closed and the pain subsided until the torn piece of leather armor was the only reminder of the wound. Her attention was pulled up at the growing audience, the few remaining Stormcloaks who couldn't hide their awe as they watched her. Minerva’s eyes were drawn to Ralof lying on the ground and the earlier discomfort vanished as she hurried to him.

Quickly she removed bits of his armor to reveal the wound, to inspect the remaining damage. The wound was halfway healed and the flesh didn't seem to be infected by poison, and she healed the rest. It didn't take long until the wound was completely healed and she averted her gaze to Ralof who was watching her with an intensity it almost made her blush.

“Better?” she asked as she placed her palm where the wound was, her thumb feathering over his cold skin.

Gazing lovingly into her eyes, he moved his hand on top of hers and cupped it gently, admitting, “Perfect.”

“Fair lady.”

Minerva turned her attention to a ragged and breathless voice, a Stormcloak soldier holding another with his one hand on his waist. He removed his helmet before asking, “Would you be so kind and heal my friend?”

“Of course,” Minerva moved to them, immediately noticing the arrow in the shoulder and the deep wound on his face. She healed both wounds in no time and was rewarded with their smile. “There, you're all patched up.”

“Thank you, fair lady,” said the healed one.

“No problem, though I am hardly a lady.”

The man smiled but left the conversation at that before the rest of the soldier’s came, all asking for Minerva's healing magic. She healed all of them gladly, it would leave her drained but it would be nothing a good night's rest wouldn't mend.

Even though she seemed deeply concentrated to cast the healing magic, she was nervously anticipating when people would start questioning her about the Shout. There was no doubt they would simply ignore it, everyone noticed it and the rumors about how the Dragonborn had joined their ranks would spread like wildfire. The nervousness turned into anxiety as the cave became utterly silent even though it was filled with Stormcloaks searching the remaining treasures.

She looked up, everyone went about their business as though nothing had happened, as though she had never used a Shout. The thought made her eyebrows arch in confusion. 

Once the last of them was healed, Minerva returned her focus to the soft thrum inside her chest. The word wall had to be somewhere near them, she could feel it with every step she took, but she couldn’t find it anywhere. She couldn't leave without it, each step she took towards the wall leading her further from the group. The drumming and pulsing intensified until she finally stood before the wall, its power searing through her entire body.

“Klo,” she whispered, and the power of the word was finally consumed.

She returned to the here and now, and could hear Galmar speaking loudly to the small, remaining group of Stormcloaks so she hurried back to them. He spoke of honor and success, and the need to celebrate once they got back to Windhelm because this day would be written in the history books. The Stormcloaks roared their victory and dispersed towards the exit with Minerva following them.

The side blade of an ax pressed against her chest stopped her further approach and she looked to her side to see who was blocking her. The discomfort grew when she realized Galmar had his piercing eyes on her, reading her as though she was an open book.

His eyes were narrowed threateningly and Minerva felt a chill crawl up her spine as he spoke, “You have very unusual powers.”

It was no surprise he would notice her use of the Shout, and she felt as though he had caught her stealing. She tried to calm her nerves, but staring into the fearsome general that was the size of a bear made it hard to keep calm and think straight. Thu’um or not, she had a feeling his ax would be faster than her tongue.

“I don't know what you mean,” she lied, only to feel the tip of his ax press against her throat harder.

“The others were too busy fighting and too deluded to notice and hear the Shout. You used the Thu’um just as Ulfric did when he killed Torygg. Don't deny it.” The last came out as a threat, pressing the blade more into her neck.

“And what is the matter with it?” she demanded, sounding and looking hot-headed. “You speak as if Jarl Ulfric is the only person able to Shout.”

“No one has been trained by the Greybeard's since Ulfric. Except the Dragonborn.”

Minerva felt the color drain from her face, he'd caught her off guard and she couldn't come up with anything to prove to him how wrong he was. Not that he was wrong but the last thing she wanted was for the others, especially Jarl Ulfric to know she was Dragonborn. She narrowed her eyes threateningly as if to silently forbid him to utter a word to anyone about her shouting, before she headed over to the rest of the Stormcloaks. She walked only a few steps when she felt something blunt hit the back of her head, and a second later she fell into unconsciousness.

####

Muffled voices and a horrendous stench pulled her awake, slowly she blinked her eyes open and became aware of her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was hay on the stone floor beneath her, the rattle of chains sounded when she moved her head enough to look up. Iron bars encircled the tiny space and her back pressed against the stone wall. Her hands were cuffed to her neck, the chain long enough she could move her hands to eat, not more.

_Galmar._

Her memory of what had happened resurfaced quickly and the wish to kill the general was all consuming. He'd put her in chains and in the cell, she could bet her life on it. The only answer she couldn't come up with was why he did this? Why would Galmar distrust her enough to put her in prison?

The door to the dungeons opened with a loud creak and inside appeared general Stone-Fist, immediately heading towards her cell. Her mouth turned down with disdain as he stopped right in front of the cell door.

“Finally,” he grunted as he unlocked the cell, another Stormcloak entered and pulled her roughly up on her feet.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded angrily, unafraid to show him just how much she hated him.

He looked alert as he scrunched a piece of cloth into a ball, never breaking eye contact with her when he stated, “Jarl Ulfric wishes to have a few words with you.” He shoved the ball of cloth right into her mouth and tied another cloth around her mouth. Minerva voiced her irritation and tried to break free of the Stormcloaks hold. Galmar calmly added, “This is for your own safety,” before he roughly pushed her to walk in front of him.

Once they were out in the hallway he grabbed the chain dangling from her neck and used it as a leash. Minerva desperately wanted to burn him alive for treating her like a dog, and would do so immediately if she wasn't in such a degrading position.

They walked through the dungeons for quite a while until they entered the great hall of the palace of the Kings, and by the looks of it it was still daytime. Strangely, the hall was empty. He pulled her towards the war room, but they didn't stop there and they took the stairs which led them to the upper levels. They entered the first room in the hallway and the door was shut behind them before Galmar threw her on her knees. Minerva’s eyes rested on thick boots and as her eyes followed upwards, she realized she'd been in the same room as Jarl Ulfric and Galmar.

Wondering just what can go wrong, she thought as she met the Jarl's eyes and he loudly stated, “Leave,” and Minerva could hear the rustle of armor behind her. She wondered whether Galmar left as well. The Jarl's eyes moved from her to something behind her when he wondered, “You said she had an astounding power?”

“In the crypt,” Minerva rolled her eyes as she realized Galmar was still in the room, “We've faced many draugr, and one draugr overlord who has protected the crown, and the Breton here used a Shout to turn it into a pile of ice.”

“A Shout?” the Jarl repeated in surprise. Minerva allowed herself to watch him closely as the wheels turned behind his eyes while he tried to put the facts together.

“Aye. Afterwards I caught her absorbing the power of a strange wall.”

It was so obvious when the realization finally dawned upon him. “A word wall…” he summarized before looking at her and his eyes narrowed. His eyes were running across her face as if he was trying to decipher who she was. Minerva felt uncomfortable, both from the position she was in and his inspecting gaze, until he suddenly nodded more to himself. “Now I remember,” he admitted as the realization finally dawned upon him.

The Jarl's voice boomed in the room, he sounded more collected when he summarized, “The person that killed the dragon in Windhelm many months ago and absorbed its soul, leaving only a pile of bones behind. It was you.”

“We have to be careful, Ulfric, to trust such power,” Galmar warned and Minerva rolled her eyes again at his overly dramatic statement. It was obvious he didn't trust her, he didn't need to point it out every few seconds.

The Jarl noticed her annoyance, commenting, “It seems she is eager to talk,” to which Minerva suppressed her need to roll her eyes again.

For a few moments there was silence, the Jarl staring at Galmar without voicing a single word. It felt like forever until Galmar finally moved and cut the piece of cloth wrapped around her mouth, and Minerva immediately spat the cloth.

“Now speak. I’m certain you wish to give voice to your thoughts,” the Jarl demanded to which Minerva smiled slyly as she looked up at him.

“There are many unpleasant things I wish to give voice to. Especially regarding your trusted general,” she spoke fearlessly, but the Jarl was unfazed by her words.

Instead he wanted an explanation, “Why is it that the Dragonborn of legend joined the rebellion?”

“Skyrim is a wreck,” Minerva decided to be partially honest, he didn't need to know the entire truth of why she hated the elves and why she truly joined the rebellion, “I wish to restore her.”

“There is more to it,” the Jarl crossed his arms. Minerva was impressed at how well he could tell she wasn’t being entirely honest.

“Yes there is,” she admitted, “But that does not matter. What matters is that I decided to help you.”

The Jarl started to approach her and Galmar pulled her up on her feet, and Minerva grunted as he stopped right in front of her. She felt like Galmar’s grip on her bicep would leave ugly bruises, there was no chance to wiggle free of his grip. He didn't look the least bit amused when he spat, “I need people I can trust in my ranks!”

Minerva appeared as calm as she could when she simply replied, “You can trust me.”

The irritation on his face shifted into pure frustration when he bit back, “Hardly. Why should I?”

“Because we are talking and I haven't used my Shout to tear you to pieces.” The reply took him a bit by surprise, she realized, and she barely suppressed the smirk erupting on her face. Now that she had his attention, she set her face with determination and decided to be honest with him. “No matter my reasons, but I would rather die a cowards death and be refused of entering Sovngarde than to let the elves do as they please. I am loyal to the cause and to you, Jarl Ulfric. You have my word.”

He nodded slowly, as if he let everything she said sink in. His voice was a rough whisper when he stated, “A true daughter of Skyrim, indeed,” before he stretched his arm out to Galmar, silently waiting for the key to unlock Minerva's chains.

Once the chains thudded to the floor she felt as light as a feather, rubbing her sore wrists to ease the pain a little. “Thank you,” she thanked, bowing her head slightly to the Jarl.

Jarl Ulfric moved from the spot in front of her and towards a desk, turning his back to them as he rummaged through the parchments. Minerva watched his back closely and wondered why he believed her all of a sudden, why he didn't need any more convincing. She had thought Jarl Ulfric to be a bit paranoid and distrustful to people, but he believed her so quickly that he even relieved her of the chains.

Galmar moved towards the Jarl as Ulfric's voice boomed across the room, addressing her, “Await your further orders, Unblooded. You're free to leave.”

Minerva waited for a few more seconds just to make sure the Jarl meant what he said, to make sure this wasn't a trap. He was immersed in a deep conversation with Galmar, however, and Minerva decided to leave since they refused to regard her in any way. She closed the door behind her once she was out in the hallway and made her way back to the temporary room in the barracks, feeling every sore muscle in her body. Reaching the room so she could get rid of the armor was her only thought, but she cursed the divines when Ralof came in her line of sight. His eyes were drawn to her and he gasped before he hurried to her, looking both relieved and worried.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, carefully inspecting her over as if to find a hidden injury. “Are you alright?”

Minerva nodded and motioned with a nod to follow her. They both headed to the room in the barracks and once they entered she was glad to find it empty. Once again she wondered whether she was the only one occupying the space.

They both sat on the tiny table, each taking their seat on opposite chairs as she told him everything, and Ralof’s eyes widened when she came to the part where Galmar had knocked her out and put her in a cell in the dungeons.

“We all saw him carry you out of the crypt with your arm across his shoulders and unconscious, but he never said what happened,” Ralof admitted, before running a hand down his face as he groaned, “That man is too paranoid.”

“He's an idiot,” Minerva corrected annoyed, before regaining her calm, “But Jarl Ulfric trusts him wholeheartedly, so I guess he is good for something, at least.”

The light coming from the candle between them hurt her eyes and she rubbed them with her forefingers. The exhaustion slowly took its toll on her and she yawned, not even placing her hand to cover her mouth before she looked at Ralof through her foggy vision. “I'll take some rest.”

“Aye, it's for the best,” Ralof said as he stood from the chair, but didn't move away from it as he added, “I'll be at Candlehearth Hall. Find me there once you wake up.” She nodded to that and he left, and Minerva didn't waste any second and started to remove her armor. She changed in a comfortable shirt and trousers before she threw herself on the bed, too tired to think of anything else. She hoped for a long and deep sleep.


	9. Omen

_*Adult content in this chapter*_   
  


_Several days later…_

Secunda and Maser were high up in the starry sky when Minerva finally found an abandoned shack to rest for the night. She had made her way from Whiterun to Windhelm and hoped to arrive before nighttime. Unfortunately for her, she was forced to rid a fort of necromancers which took longer than she anticipated. The dungeons beneath the fort were never ending and she cursed her stupidity for interfering at all instead of just minding her own business. She could have killed them another time if she'd been more careful to avoid them.

She was quickly lying comfortably on the pile of straw on the floor, hugging her backpack which also served as a pillow, and she leveled her breathing. But with the sound of wildlife sounding loud around her, there was no chance she could take some much needed rest. Minerva was a light sleeper, even a small sound would wake her. Sometimes, she wished it was the other way around.

Partially awake she lied on the pile of straw, and listened closely to anything suspicious. Time passed, and as she finally opened her eyes and sat up, she noticed the sun already rising. But a twig breaking in the close distance made her alert so she jumped on her feet and drew Dawnbreaker. She was prepared for whatever would step around the corner.

"Hello?" called someone cautiously. Minerva's eyebrows arched in surprise as she watched the courier step around the corner, and he looked beyond relieved once he spotted her. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but there is an important letter I need to deliver. Your hands only."

Minerva accepted the letter from him and couldn't help but ask, "How the hell do you always find me?" to which the courier shrugged his shoulders with a self-confident grin.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, "Well, that's all I have for you. I'll be off, then."

Minerva watched the courier disappear into the forest before she averted her attention to the letter. It had the Stormcloak insignia waxed on the front and with furrowed brows she tore the seal before reading it.

_Return to Windhelm_

_Jarl Ulfric_

" _Pff,_ " Minerva folded the letter and placed it inside her chest piece before she stretched her arms above her head, yawning. She gathered the backpack and continued on her original path. Even though she was curious to know why Jarl Ulfric summoned her, she felt more than irritated by the content of the letter. It was plain and blunt, just as the Jarl himself and she rolled her eyes in irritation.

Quietly she grumbled to herself, "That man needs to learn some manners," as she maneuvered through the forest ground, staying clear of the main road. That way, she had the best chance of evading the dragons or anyone who was trying to kill her. "Talking to me as if I'm a dog," she continued, her irritation and voice slightly growing. "Thinking that if he whistles I will come running. Moron."

Something in the not too far distance caught her attention and she stopped, and noticed a handful of people walking on the main road. She couldn't recognize them and normally she wouldn't even bother, but there was a feeling in her gut telling her to stealthily move closer to inspect the people. And she did. She kept low and moved forward, and hid behind a huge boulder. Finally, she was able to recognize them.

Four Thalmor warriors, one of them was a justiciar, led a imprisoned Nord in rags and barefoot forward. They were heavily armed, she realized, as she decided to silently follow them for a while. Her mind was already set, she would attack them and free the Nord, she only needed to wait for them to get off the main road. She didn't want any guards or bandits to join the fight.

Movement on the opposite side of the road caught her attention however, and she recognized the purple blue armor of the Stormcloaks as they hid from the Thalmor's view. The Thalmor were unknowing of them, which would make it easier for them to attack. Minerva drew Dawnbreaker as one of the Stormcloaks raised their hand, clearly telling the others to stay put until they gave the order to attack. It felt like an eternity as their hand finally dropped and the Stormcloaks descended on the Thalmor like angry vultures.

Minerva joined in and immediately faced the Thalmor Justiciar, but thanks to the surprise attack the Thalmor were soon dead and the imprisoned Nord free. "Thank you," he spoke through chattering teeth as he accepted a weapon and enough supplies for the journey to Windhelm. He was off quickly and the Stormcloaks turned to Minerva.

"The Dovahkiin, what an honor," a female Stormcloak greeted and removed her helmet, revealing a scarred, young face.

The fact the warrior knew Minerva as the Dragonborn didn't sit quite well with her, but she also couldn't deny how surprised she was by the fact she was recognized at all. So she only nodded in acknowledgment and looked in the direction where the now free Nord ran off to.

"Are you on a mission, shield-maiden?" Minerva wondered as she looked back at the woman. Her face lit up as she readjusted the shield in her hand.

She sounded eager when she explained, "Not exactly. We scout the roads and forests for Thalmor or Imperials, and we take them out. It helps our cause."

"Cause?" Minerva wondered what exactly the young woman meant.

She smiled, "To drive the Empire out of Skyrim, to restore her power. That is what we all signed up for. The more Imperial soldiers we kill, the easier it will be to accomplish our goal."

"Nira! We have to move!" a male Stormcloak yelled and the young woman put back her helmet.

"It was nice talking to you, Dovahkiin. May the gods watch over you." The young woman, Nira, moved back to the Stormcloaks waiting for her. She told them something which made all of them look at Minerva, before all of them raised their weapons in the air and roared, "Dovahkiin!"

They hurried down the main road and Minerva wondered if she would receive such a reaction wherever she went. The Dovahkiin was a legendary warrior whom the Nords respected with their entire being. Surely she wouldn't be treated as royalty, but it still made her think whether being Dovahkiin was that bad as she first thought it would.

Minerva continued her journey to Windhelm, she passed the lush forests stretching from Whiterun quickly, but the snowy and cold terrain dominated more and more until her boots sunk into the snow with every step. She hated the cold, pulling the heavy cloak impossibly close around her neck in order to block the blizzard. As cold as she was now, she hated the fact that the headquarters of the rebellion was in the coldest city of Skyrim. Surely they could have moved to a city with a more inviting climate, like Riften?

She steeled her resolve and continued towards the blasted city nonetheless, and even though it felt like it took forever she eventually reached Windhelm. Strangely, the blizzard subsided the closer she came to the city. She made a beeline for Candlehearth Hall and ordered something warm to eat, and moments later Minerva was happily sipping her stew and drank a tasty mug of ale, comfortably warm and seated closest to the fireplace.

"Well, isn't that a surprise!"

Someone slumped into the chair opposite of her and a small smile curled her lips. Ralof was happily regarding her, mug tightly in hand as he seemed not as focused as she usually knew him. He seemed a bit tipsy and Minerva leaned both her elbows on the table, giving him her full attention.

"We agreed we would see each other more often since I am part of the rebellion now, correct?"

"Aye, of course!" he exclaimed and Minerva rolled her eyes. He was definitely a bit tipsy. "What brings you back so quickly? It is only a week since you left."

"The Jarl summons me."

The revelation casted a shadow of doubt on his carefree features, and just like that he sobered up. "What could he want?" he wondered.

"I don't know," Minerva sipped her ale and enjoyed the way it warmed her from the inside out, "I'm guessing it's another mission for the cause."

"Probably," Ralof agreed and smiled at her, "I can't wait to fight beside you again. Now that I think of it, I haven't thanked you properly."

His gratitude took her a little by surprise and she blinked twice before asking, "What for?"

"Because without you I would be dead now. I owe you."

Minerva remembered the scene at the crypt, remembered the gaping wound on his stomach and remembered the fear and terror she felt as she'd kneeled next to him. If she hadn't been there he would be dead and the mere thought sent a chill up her neck.

Smiling, she softly stated, "You owe me nothing. I'm just glad I was there to heal you," and it pulled a laugh out of him.

"As humble as always. May we slay many draugr and Imperials together!" he said the toast before taking a large gulp from the ale. They fell into a comfortable and easy conversation after that, with both of them becoming oblivious to their surroundings. Soldiers that recognized both Ralof and Minerva joined in on the table, one by one. It didn't take long until the entire table was full with mugs of ale and empty flasks, with a dozen of half drunk Stormcloaks, all of them talking so loud they almost yelled even though they were sitting right next to each other.

Minerva never witnessed the camaraderie first hand, and couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she listened to the ongoing banter, each saying more ridiculous things than the one before. She admired their carefree friendship and complete trust in each other, because they fought for the same cause. All of them formed a bond thanks to the rebellion, and Minerva couldn't help but feel elated and happy because she was part of it. It felt right, she admitted, and her eyes flew to Ralof.

She couldn't tell whether he was drunk or happy, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the boyish grin that made him look years younger, and the way his eyes sparkled. Minerva watched him interact with the other's, and her own smile subsided a little as the memory of the hot night they spent together resurfaced. Her eyes traveled up his bare arms, his strong neck which was hidden behind a curtain of blonde hair and they rested on his beautiful lips. As tipsy as she was now, there was nothing more she wanted than to have him again, to release the pent up tension.

She stood up from the chair and the others immediately bombarded her with questions and pleas to stay. But with their yelling and the loud music, she could feel the light pound of a headache start in the back of her head and she wanted to avoid it as long as it was fresh, because hopefully Ralof would get her hint and follow her to somewhere more private. It felt like it took forever, but finally he locked his eyes on her and it was evident that something clicked in his mind. He understood what she wanted with a look alone, there were no words needed.

She greeted each of them and wished them a goodnight, and promised to join in on the celebration another time before she made her way downstairs, then out of the inn. She was deliberately dragging her feet as slowly as possible, earning confused looks by the guards. She rounded the wall and headed towards the now empty market, deciding to pass a little more time in the fresh, night air. Surprisingly, she wasn't as cold as she'd been earlier and guessed it was because of the ale. Maybe she should drink more often.

The hairs on her neck stood in nervous anticipation as she felt someone following her. Her heartbeat elevated as she chose a not too crowded alleyway, refusing to turn around just yet. The hunt and the unknown excited her, and when she was certain no one was around she turned to face him.

Ralof was slowly approaching her with a air of cockiness around him, with a barely visible smirk. Minerva inhaled deeply and stood tall when he stopped in front of her, the air between them suddenly burning too hot and too alluring. Her mouth watered.

"Your eyes speak volumes, you know," he admitted, his husky voice sending a pleasant shiver up her spine.

Feeling bold, she stood on her tiptoes to get just a bit closer to him, whispering, "I'm glad I'm not that of a mystery to you, then," before lowering her eyes to his lips. "What do you wish to do?" she asked, eyes lingering on his lips, and she barely finished before he kissed her.

The kiss was hard and long as he crushed her to him, giving her no room to escape nor move, as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They stumbled in an direction unknown to her and her back landed heavily on a stone wall. His hands were greedily grabbing at her curves while she was holding a handful of his hair to prevent him from breaking the kiss. But with every bit of flesh denied to him thanks to her armor, he grew more and more frustrated, and grabbed a handful of her rear before breaking the kiss roughly.

With the lower lip between her teeth, she smiled and suggested, "Come, follow me," and he obliged without uttering a word. She maneuvered through the city towards the Grey Quarter's, and as soon as they walked further in they were suspiciously looked upon.

Ralof seemed hesitant, but followed her regardless. "Why are we here?" he wondered as he wearily looked around the few Dunmer sending them sharp looks.

They quickly reached their destination. It was an empty hut used to store hay, but it was locked so she needed to use her lockpicking skills to unlock it. She knelt in front of the makeshift, locked door and started fumbling on the lock. Ralof gasped behind her, whispering harshly, "Are you out of your mind?!" which provoked a smile from her.

Seconds later the lock sprang free and she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside. There was a table which didn't look like it could hold their weight. Minerva smiled in challenge as she turned to face him after she closed the door behind them. She started undressing herself, and even though it was cold she had no doubt Ralof would keep her warm.

His eyes eagerly followed her hands as she undid each buckle and belt holding her leggings, more and more pieces joining the floor. He stood there watching her hungrily, and she couldn't help but remark, "I will need you to keep me warm, you know." He immediately followed her example and undid all of the leg harnesses.

When enough armor was removed he grabbed her by her waist, spun her around and positioned her to sit on the table. He was on her in an instant, kissing and nipping her neck as he entered, and her eyes fell shut at the intense sensation. She desperately wished they were entirely naked, without any pieces of armor disturbing them, but they were in a hut and it was cold outside, and they needed to be at least partially dressed if someone found them.

Ralof moved his arms underneath her legs and lifted them in the air, the slight shift allowing him to penetrate much deeper than before. Minerva tried her best to keep quiet, to not alert any suspicion, but this felt too good while he pushed her closer to her release. Everything around her started to fade as the heat in her belly consumed her. She enveloped her arms around his neck and held onto him as close as possible, muffling her increasing moans into his shoulder. He moved harder and faster, and not long after did the wave of pleasure crush onto her. Her mind went completely empty, her body became too sensitive to his every touch and cares as he built up his own release.

Minerva felt the taunt muscles and the tension rolling off of him. She adjusted so that she was comfortably lying on the quivering table, finding an angle which caused both of them to moan in delight. That way, he was reaching even deeper within her, the pleasure almost turning into pain.

She could barely sustain her cries of pleasure as he pumped into her, confidently aiming for his release. The second orgasm was even more intense than the one before, she was certain if anyone walked by they could clearly hear what they were doing, but in that moment she couldn't care. He was quick when he pulled out, rubbing the tip of his thick length along her entrance while he came. Minerva watched breathlessly as he covered her womanhood with his release, wishing desperately to feel him throbbing inside of her instead.

He was holding his weight up with both his shaky arms as he still came back from the heights of bliss, whispering, "You're going to end me," before releasing a heartwarming chuckle.

"You'll be fine," she teased back as they both chuckled. He stepped aside, giving her enough space to stand on her own feet as she cleaned herself with a piece of cloth she carried with herself. The two dressed themselves and as the heat of the moment subsided, she felt just how cold she was. She shivered, pulling the cloak tightly around her.

"You alright?" he asked, securing the belt.

Minerva nodded, "Yeah, I'm just a bit cold, nothing new." Without hesitating he handed her a piece of fur and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Ralof, please, it's fine. I'll be in the palace in no time."

But he shook his head, "Take it, I'm not that cold," he assured.

She tried to convince him one more time, "It's freezing outside," as she handed him the fur back.

He stubbornly wrapped it around her again. "Please, I'm a Nord! This is nothing but a summer's breeze!"

Minerva giggled, until the giggle turned into laughter. "What?" Ralof asked, completely confused as to why she was laughing.

It took a while before she calmed down, wiping the corners of her eyes with her knuckle as she revealed, "I heard you say _I'm a horse!_ "

"Well, perhaps in more ways than one," he joked and she burst into laughter. He hushed her and Minerva calmed as much as she could as Ralof opened the door enough to have a look. He looked at her over his shoulder, saying, "The coast looks clear," before Minerva followed him out, securing the lock on the door again. Minerva couldn't contain her giggle and ralof couldn't wipe the smile off of his face as they made their way towards the palace. Minerva was oblivious to the people weirdly looking at them because she enjoyed the company of the man walking next to her. She felt like a young girl walking next to her crush, and it was a new experience, one that she greatly enjoyed.

He made her laugh and she felt delighted whenever she saw him, and she enjoyed his company more than she would ever admit. It would take more time to place her feelings correctly, to understand what this was between them, but for the moment just being with him, enjoying him, was enough. Later, when everything calmed a little, they could figure out together whatever was happening between them. Slowly, both of them calmed and regained their composure. Ralof was the first to speak as they came close to Candlehearth Hall, "You know, I'm happy whenever I see you."

Minerva felt her lips stretch into a smile she wanted to hide, but to no avail. She decided not to take his statement too seriously, and instead she agreed with him partially, "Most people are happy when they see the Dragonborn."

It pulled a laugh out of him and he stopped abruptly, Minerva turned to face him with her brows raised in question. Ralof erased what little space was between them, she could feel his warmth enveloping her even though the wind harshly blew along her cheeks. She blushed when he lowered his head just a bit closer towards her face so he could whisper, "I am happy to see _you,_ I don't care if you are the Dragonborn."

Her confident smirk faded as she looked deeply into his eyes, and she couldn't ignore the pleasant spark his admission ignited. Still, they were in the middle of the city with many onlookers around, and Minerva decided to keep up the humour, even though she wished to devour him for what he'd just admitted. People didn't need to know just how close they were.

She playfully punched his shoulder and he was surprised for a second because of the impact, but smiled nonetheless. "Yeah, I'll ask you again when a dragon swoops down on us," she joked, and was glad that he seemed to understand that they couldn't make such confessions where everyone could see them.

"Tell you what," Ralof continued playfully as she crossed her arms, "Next time, we'll count who kills more enemies."

"I already know you'll lose," she was quick to counter.

"Do you really think so?" he asked, the challenge loud in his voice before he snorted.

Minerva smirked, "Yeah, because you grow careless when you think you have the upper hand."

####

After she'd left Ralof at Candlehearth Hall, she made her way towards the palace, but doubted to find anyone inside. It was late afternoon when she entered and she found that she was right; the great hall was empty, the fires were flickering everywhere but there was no one around. She sighed, but caught the light dance on the archway towards the war room so she decided to have a look and hopefully she would find Jarl Ulfric inside.

She peeked inside the war room and indeed, she found the Jarl sitting at the desk, quill in hand as he wrote something on the parchment. Minerva contemplated ways on how to announce her presence, whether she should just clear her throat to announce her presence, or maybe to call him by his title, but she dismissed the latter because she didn't want to startle him. Then again, could he be startled that easily? Amused, she decided to find out and she opened her mouth.

"Yes, Unblooded?"

Minerva's mouth hung open, her voice died in her throat as he continued to write without looking up. From this distance she could still see his profile but there was no chance she could at least guess what was going on in his mind. Whatever the man thought was a mystery to her, one she wasn't too keen to understand if she was honest.

Slowly she stepped inside, with her hands on her lower back. He was leaned over the desk writing something, and as she got closer she noticed the tiredness darkening his under eyes.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, my Jarl, but I received your letter and came as soon as I could." Minerva admitted, watching him as he abandoned the quill in the silver ink bottle. He leaned back into the chair and faced her fully. The way his eyes scanned her over sent chills up her neck, it made her feel exposed and not in a pleasant way.

"I have, indeed, sent you a letter. I have a mission for you." Minerva tensed slightly, but nodded in understanding. He continued, "Galmar thinks it is time to make a move on Whiterun."

 _I don't give a shit what he thinks,_ she thought bitterly but only nodded that she heard him.

"What do you think?"

She almost didn't realize he'd asked her a question, and she blinked twice when it came to her head. She decided to play along since she had no idea what he was getting at.

"I'm not a military mind, my Jarl," she informed first, then added, "But if we have the resources, why not?"

"That is exactly what he said," he stood from the chair and went to the cabinet in the corner, opening the drawer he took something out before he turned to face her with the item. She tensed when he approached her with a fine polished ax in hand.

When he stopped not too close to her, she felt the air between them starting to suffocate her. Something about his presence and his eyes made her at unease and she suppressed the urge to take a backwards step away from him. Instead she held her head high and shoulders set.

His voice sent strong vibrations through her as he declared, "Balgruuf hasn't decided yet, and it is time to decide with whom he stands with."

Minerva lowered her gaze to the ax in hand and briefly recalled a distant memory. Her father had once told her about the ancient Nordic traditions, about the meaning of accepting an ax or turning it down. It was a brief lesson, she remembered, and she couldn't remember everything he'd said but she knew that turning down the ax was a bad omen.

The Jarl held out the ax as he explained further, "Go to Whiterun and give him my ax. If he accepts it means we can count on him."

"And if he refuses?" she wondered, but could already sense what would possibly happen if Jarl Balgruuf refused to accept the ax.

Jarl Ulfric exhaled deeply as she accepted the ax from him, careful not to touch his hand because it felt forbidden to do so. However if she was honest, the mere thought of touching him made her nervous.

"Then there will be consequences," Jarl Ulfric stated, magnifying the feeling of dread starting to suffocate her. "Either he is with us or against us."

Minerva knew that, there was no in between when it came to alliances and war, but to know hundreds of people, innocent people, would die in the battle for Whiterun felt very wrong. The thought sent an alarming chill down her back; she could already imagine all the children losing their parents in the skirmish.

Minerva nodded and the Jarl went back to sit on the chair, adjusting so that he was leaned over the parchment again. He was deep in thought when she asked, "Is there something you wish me to tell him?" and was surprised when he looked at her.

He looked grave and sounded troubled when he said, "Men who understand each other often have no need for words. There are but a few simple truths behind one warrior giving another his axe. Balgruuf will know my meaning."

Minerva inhaled deeply, one simple action would seal the fate of Whiterun. She couldn't decide whether she was impressed at how well the two Jarl's understood each other, or afraid because there was no time and no need for negotiations. _Either he is with us, or against us,_ the words rang in her mind in Ulfric's voice and she shook her head slightly.

He was still looking at her when he said lowly, "Go to Whiterun. I will await the news." He gave her one stern look before averting his attention back to the parchment, stating, "Talos guide you," to which she bowed her head slightly before she left.

Everything felt so wrong as she made her way out of the palace, then out of the city towards the stables, holding the ax tightly in her grasp. The weapon in her hand would spill no blood yet, but it will cause the deaths of many if Balgruuf refused to accept it. She came to a stop once she was close to the stables and looked at the weapon in her hand. It was a simple steel battle ax, she admired it's sharp edges and neat engravings, and she realized fully that this ax belonged to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, and that it would probably cause the deaths of many even if it wouldn't be used in the battle.

Sudden anger engulfed her and she glared at the path she just came from, gripping the ax even harder.

_Dammit Ulfric! Why didn't you negotiate first? Why didn't you at least try to stop innocent blood from spilling?_

She couldn't know the answers to the questions her mind had come up with, but she hoped he had at least tried to get Balgruuf on their side the gentle way. If not, she didn't know what to think of him. Why did it even matter to her so all of a sudden, when she wasn't even in Skyrim for the past two decades and all she cared about was her own revenge. She hated the Empire because they opened the gates of Skyrim for the elves to march in, and everything shouldn't matter as long as she got to fulfill her revenge.

She wanted revenge, she wanted the Stormcloaks to win because their victory would be a hard blow for the Dominion. It would disrupt the plans of the Altmer king and she wanted nothing more but to make his life a living hell. Minerva wanted to kill every Thalmor, every elf or person that favoured the Dominion. However, she never intended to spill the blood of the innocents in order for her to fulfill her desires. Young men and women would lose their lives if Balgruuf refused, but not all was lost.

She was the thane of Whiterun, she could talk to Balgruuf, maybe convince him to abandon the Empire for the sake of his people. Maybe she could prevent the bloodshed. Nodding once to herself, she hastily went to the stable owner and bought the fastest steed. With determination burning brightly in her heart, she decided she would give her best to convince Jarl Balgruuf that choosing the Empire will be the downfall of them, of his rule, of everything he ever imagined for the city of Whiterun. Minerva only had one chance and she wasn't going to miss it.


	10. Changing Wings

It felt good to be back at Breezehome, she admitted as she gently closed the door. The embers glowed dimly in the fireplace, an already lukewarm meal prepared in the kettle waiting to be heated again. Minerva walked to the nearby chair and placed the heavy backpack on the floor next to it before she slumped into it, letting out a long breath.

"My thane?"

Minerva jumped from the chair and her eyes rested on a sleepy Lydia standing on the last stair. The warrior was rubbing her eyes before she looked at Minerva again, this time seeming more aware of her surroundings.

She slumped into the chair again, making herself comfortable as she casted a tiny fireball into the fireplace. The embers lit up anew and the warmth enveloped her. Lydia sat on the chair next to her, leaning the shortsword against it.

"I'm sorry I woke you," Minerva said sleepily and looked at her. Lydia yawned, then rubbed her eyes to banish the sleep. Minerva returned her focus to the low flames dancing in front of them, unable to will her body to move so she could throw more wood into the fire. Luckily, Lydia found enough willpower to do just that.

"It's your house, you can come and go whenever you like," Lydia said as she poked the fire, then retook her seat. "Is something the matter? You look troubled."

Minerva ground her teeth as she looked at the increasing fire, and cursed Lydia for further ruining her already foul mood. She wondered whether to tell her housecarl why she returned to Whiterun, but found it would be better if Minerva was honest. That way, Lydia could prepare.

Without looking away from the flames, Minerva started, "I'm here because Jarl Ulfric plans to advance on Whiterun. He's given me his ax and I need to deliver it to Jarl Balgruuf."

Lydia nodded slowly and Minerva dared to glance at her; the warrior seemed even more troubled than she did a moment ago. "If he refuses to take the axe, there will be war," Lydia summarized and Minerva only nodded. "What will you do?"

"I will try to talk him into accepting the ax, of course," Minerva stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Exhaling deeply, she added worried, "But I already fear my words are futile."

"When will you meet with the Jarl?"

Minerva thought for a moment before replying, "In the next few days. I have things to prepare before everything collapses."

"You talk as if you already know he is going to refuse."

A humorless smile curled her lips as she looked at Lydia, and could immediately notice the worry etched into her features. She said, "Expect the best, but be prepared for the worst. Even if Ulfric attacks he will do as little damage as possible. His goal is to force Balgruuf to abandon the Empire, not kill every citizen of Whiterun."

"I hope you're right," exhaled Lydia as she stood from the chair. "I'm heading back to sleep, tomorrow is a long day."

Minerva watched her friend leave and couldn't agree more. She headed towards her own bed and removed only necessary parts of her armor before she threw herself on the soft mattress. Thankfully, she slept soundly that night, and in the morning she decided to head to Gildergreen. She'd met a girl near the tree, Lucia, an orphan and she revealed she was spending most of her time near the tree. Minerva felt sorry for the girl who'd lost her parents and related to her in a way, which urged her to converse with her whenever she was in the city.

The sun was bright, the city bustling with life, and Minerva noticed the increased numbers of people actually living here since the last time she visited. There were many unknown faces she'd met along the way to the Gildergreen, and once she was close she noticed the girl sitting on a bench, playing with flowers.

Smiling, she made her way to the girl. Her attempt to surprise her failed however, the girls eyes were drawn to her the moment Minerva stepped close enough.

"Min!" Lucia shouted as Minerva fell to her knees, accepting her into a loving embrace.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Minerva spoke softly into her hair, and the girl broke the hug, her eyes wide and expectant.

"I'm so happy to see you, finally!" Lucia dragged Minerva to where she was sitting moments ago and the two fell in an easy conversation. Minerva had some food with her and she gave it to the girl which she gratefully took. As Lucia ate, Minerva used the time to look around, noticing the increased number of guards patrolling.

As if Lucia was reading her thoughts, she started, "There are more soldiers in the city since you left."

"Is that so?" Minerva wondered, her brows furrowed.

"I think the Jarl fears the dragons a lot. That's why he's posting more soldiers everywhere."

 _Or maybe he has spies in Windhelm and he knows Ulfric is going to attack,_ Minerva thought just when a group of soldier's caught her attention. They were heavily armed, and the four soldiers guarded someone in the middle. She couldn't fully see the person and she readjusted a little on her seat to have a better field of vision. A soldier fell one step behind which gave her a clear view of the person they were guarding. Her eyes narrowed into two angry slits.

_Tullius. What the hell is he doing here?!_

Minerva watched him as they took the path towards Dragonsreach, he kept his attention forward. Seeing Tullius again set a burning fire ablaze in her heart and the need to bury her ax into his skull almost overtook her sanity.

"Min?" Lucia called cautiously which successfully pulled her mind from the scenarios piling up in her thoughts.

She forced a smile but the unease remained. Minerva stayed with Lucia for another hour, and she gave her enough money to rent a room in the inn and buy food for the day. Lucia ran off and Minerva watched her until her tiny frame disappeared into the distance, and her heart contorted. The girl had lost weight, she realized, but despite everything Lucia seemed happy.

For the next two days, Minerva made necessary preparations for the oncoming battle, bought alchemy ingredients and food for Lydia. The door to Warmaiden's closed with a loud creak behind her and with newly bought arrows in her quiver she crossed the remaining steps to Breezehome. Once inside, she noticed Lydia securing a heavy burgundy cloak around Lucia. The warrior looked up from her task and looked at her thane with dread.

Minerva placed the backpack containing everything for their journey on the table and she started rearranging the items inside of it as she spoke, "Here you have enough food for the next few days, if you're careful you will have enough for a week."

"You're staying?" Lucia asked, and Minerva forced a smile as she approached them.

She knelt on one knee in front of her and placed both her hands on the girls shoulders. "There are things I need to do here, first. I will follow you as soon as I can."

Lucia nodded, but averted her saddened eyes to the floor. Minerva pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly before letting go, cupping Lucia's face to make her look at her. Minerva sounded as enthusiastic as possible as she stated, "We will see each other soon, and from then on we'll spend more time together, eh?"

Lucia nodded, and Minerva stood straight to look at Lydia. "Riverwood is safe," Minerva said, "After everything calmes a little you will return here."

"As you wish, my thane," Lydia agreed, "May Talos watch over you."

Minerva nodded and gave the warrior's shoulder a strong pat, before Lydia and Lucia moved past her towards the door, with Lydia carrying the backpack. Minerva walked them out and watched their backs as they headed towards the city gates. Lucia glanced at her over her shoulder and Minerva waved with a huge smile on her face. Holding her gaze for a minute, Minerva felt something contort her heart as Lucia returned her focus to the path in front of them. She hadn't spoken to anyone about it, but Minerva would like for Lucia stay with her, to adopt her because she felt connected with her even though she hadn't brought her into this world.

Lydia's hand was on Lucia's shoulder as the two moved behind the gate, and when the gate closed Minerva exhaled deeply.

"Alright, Balgruuf. Let us see if you are a smart man."

####

"To what do I owe this visit, thane of Whiterun?"

Balgruuf enthusiastically greeted her as he descended the few stairs from the throne, having an ear to ear grin stretch on his face. Minerva stood tall with her chin raised, her hands to her back as her eyes flew to Irileth standing next to the throne, glaring at her. Minerva averted her gaze to the Jarl and bowed her head slightly in greeting.

"I see the city is well prepared," Minerva started, hoping to get any information about why Tullius visited a couple of days ago.

Balgruuf nodded, "Aye. We cannot be prepared enough. There have been sightings of a dragon close by and I cannot risk putting my citizens to harm. Tullius has sent a few soldier's to boost our defenses. It makes us all sleep better at night." The dread was replaced with a huge grin when he added, "But with the Dragonborn back, there is no fear of the dragon anymore!"

She smiled, though it was only a facade. "May we have a word, my Jarl?" she politely wondered.

"Of course!" Balgruuf placed a hand on her shoulder and urged her to walk next to him. Once they were close enough, Balgruuf sat on the throne and readjusted himself as he sighed deeply. "Now, what is the matter?"

Minerva nodded to Irileth, to which the Dunmer nodded back, wordlessly greeting each other. She decided to approach the subject slowly. "Have you decided whom to join in the war?"

With the question his mood visibly changed, he clearly hadn't expected it and his foul mood showed he wasn't keen on talking about it. Minerva watched him carefully as he sighed out of irritation, explaining, "I still favor the side of Whiterun, if you understand. Tullius attempts to appeal to me with numerous soldier's sent to serve the city. But on the other side, there is Ulfric pressuring me to not forfeit our Nine Divines, and keep to our traditions as Nords. As much as I despise that man for what he did, I cannot deny that he is, in some ways at least, right."

There was still a glimmer of hope that Minerva could, somehow, talk Balgruuf into siding with the Stormcloaks. She understood the man only cared for what was best for his people, but there would come a time where he needed to choose a side; sadly, that time was only moments away.

Balgruuf narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his seat, wondering, "Why are you asking? Is there something you've heard of?" and Minerva wished she could say she'd asked out of pure curiosity.

Minerva cleared her throat and inhaled deeply, focusing as best she could on the conversation that was to come. Without dancing around the issue anymore, she decided to be blunt and said, "Jarl Ulfric has asked me to deliver his ax."

In an instant his expression fell as she brought up the ax. Balgruuf never tore his eyes from the weapon as a humourless laugh escaped him, commenting, "That man is persistent, I'll give him that."

"He wishes for an answer," she stated, to which his face narrowed further in anger.

"And I wish for peace! Unity! It seems we all ask for the impossible." He continued to spat his anger at her as he stood from his throne, "And he orders the Dragonborn to do his bidding. Could he not have sent his most trusted general, or could he not have bothered to come himself?!" His voice became louder the more his temper increased. "What lies did he tell you to smear your eyes with?!"

"No lies," she stubbornly answered, "We agree on many levels. The elves cannot do as they please."

Balgruuf's face twisted in disgust and he shook his head. "Then you are as shortsighted as the man who's ax you're carrying," he growled, and Minerva bit back a retort.

"It is time to strike," encouraged Irileth. Minerva wished so badly to burn her with her magic. Why was the Dunmer making the situation worse than it already was? "We have waited enough."

Balgruuf nodded to that, his features set with determination when he stated, "I agree, it is time to face Ulfric as a man."

Minerva's heart plummeted to her feet as Balgruuf descended the stairs to stand in front of her. For the first time, she felt intimidated by him. "If Ulfric wants to challenge my rule in the old way, let him. Though I suspect he'll prefer to send his Stormcloaks to do it for him."

Minerva suspected he would refuse to take the axe, thus she'd sent Lydia and Lucia away from Whiterun, to escape the bloodshed, but she wouldn't leave without at least trying to change his mind. Her voice was unwavering, her attitude fierce as she inquired, "The treaty has made Skyrim weak. The enemies once trembled before Skyrim, now they try to take over the lands and the people. Jarl Ulfric wishes to restore her glory. Don't you agree with him?"

Balgruuf's narrowed eyes pierced right into hers, a darkness she'd never seen in them before coming out. Her words have irked him, she realized, as she refused to take a step back away, and bravely raised her chin to look straight into his eyes. He spoke with suppressed anger, "He will tear Skyrim apart and leave it vulnerable to the Dominion!"

Even though she was facing the frightful Jarl Balgruuf she couldn't hide her emotions any longer, and instead of trying to calmly win him over to their side, she plainly showed her frustration. "If you stopped fighting each other and instead joined forces, you wouldn't need to fear the Dominion!"

He was angry and all worked up, his nostrils flared and the admiration for her turned into pure hatred, but Minerva didn't flinch. Balgruuf spoke through clenched teeth when he stated, "I'm not going to blindly trust and follow a mad man! Someone who has killed our king in his own need for power can only plunge us into more chaos!"

There was no use in talking to him. He'd set his mind with the fact he believed to be the truth and there was no force in the world that could change his mind. She was all worked up, she could feel the anger burning inside of her, but she focused on keeping a clear mind as much as possible. Every Nord she had met had a remarkable yet very frustrating and unwavering stubbornness that became harder for her to accept or admire, simply because there were no negotiations that could change their mind, nor could she talk sense into them.

She exhaled slowly, her hand gripping the handle of the ax so hard it almost broke it in half. Gathering her nerves, she decided to give voice to her thoughts, again, and see if that would change his mind. "The Dominion will attack whether you side with the Empire or with the Stormcloaks. The Empire is weak and brittle, and threatens to crumble even before a large scale war erupts. Without the unity you crave for, Jarl Balgruuf, there will be no chance to win a war. In that case we have already lost."

His answer would seal Whiterun's fate, both of them knew that. That was why he hesitated, why he worked his jaw as he considered his options. But he had none and the realisation of it was evident, even through his hardened features.

"Proventus!" The Jarl's voice boomed through the halls. Minerva held her breath as she eagerly awaited the Jarl's next move. Was she able to convince him?

Proventus came holding a quill and parchment, his eyes wide with expectancy. Jarl Balgruuf never tore his eyes from her and from the look on his face she already knew the answer; she failed.

"Write a letter to General Tullius. Tell him we accept his terms."

"Aye, my lord," Proventus said before he hurried away to do as ordered.

Balgruuf retook the seat on the throne, leaning his cheek on a fisted hand as he said, "The esteemed Jarl of Windhelm has my answer. Now, make sure that he gets it."

Minerva, although suspecting he might deny them even before she came here, couldn't accept failure, but there was nothing she could do. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, figuratively, as she secured the ax to her waist, defeated.

"I don't have to tell you," Balgruuf started, fixing his gaze on her making her nervous as he added, "During the time, you are not welcome in Whiterun. Leave immediately, or my guards will see to it."

Minerva almost laughed at his attempt to scare her with his guards, but she knew better than to mock him. Silently she slowly turned and headed for the door, feeling their eyes glued to her back made her feel as though insects were crawling over her skin. When she stepped outside she felt none of the tension from inside Dragonsreach, but as she got closer to the city gate she couldn't help but feel followed. She refrained from looking behind her shoulder to see whether her instincts were merely exaggerating and instead kept her focus to the front.

With every step, however, the feeling of unease grew until she couldn't bear it any longer and she glanced behind her shoulder. Indeed, there were a handful of heavily armed guards following her and they weren't even trying to hide it. She stopped and turned fully to face them, silently demanding why they'd been following her out.

"Move along, pup," one shouted, to which the other's burst into laughter and joined in on their mockery. "You're not welcome here anymore."

"Orders from Jarl Balgruuf! Leave the city and never return!"

"Aye, before we use that pretty face of yours!"

"Eh, not just the face!"

They laughed and Minerva had to find every ounce of self control not to set them ablaze. Her magic was crackling inside her fisted hands, ready to inflict chaos and burn everyone in its path. The sound of their laughter echoing around them only fueled that desire. Everyone close by was watching the scene by now, wondering and muttering wild rumors as to why she was escorted out of the city. The guards by the gate were alert, closely watching the exchange in case they needed to interrupt. No matter how badly she wished to kill them, it would be the wrong thing to do.

So instead she fixed them a deathly glare, one she wasn't even certain they caught because of their drunk like laughter, and slowly she headed towards the gates.

Their laughter echoed from behind her ringing loudly in her ears, fueling the ever consuming rage as she forced each step to exit the city. When she felt the hard wood under her palms as she pushed the gate open, she could hear their laughter subsided as one of them declared loudly, "Orders from Jarl Balgruuf, she has been banned from the city! Don't let her enter!"

The city gate closed behind her and she let out a long breath, releasing the anger and tension with it as much as possible. With her hurried steps she headed for the stables, but she wouldn't travel on her own. She would hire a carriage because she needed time to think and to relax. Luckily, the carriage stood by its usual place and Minerva approached the carrier.

"I would need transport to Windhelm," she stated as he regarded her with a raised eyebrow.

"Fine, you have the gold?" he asked.

Minerva handed him the necessary gold and jumped inside the carriage. Luckily, there was hay strewn around and she decided to lie down, with a single straw between her teeth. The sky looked beautiful, she thought as she moved both her hands under her head, crossing her legs at her ankles. She was comfortable as the carriage moved, each uneven stone on the road causing the carriage to rock, but it wasn't uncomfortable or annoying. The rocking was oddly calming and with her mind clear, she thought about everything.

Balgruuf declined them and openly admitted to accept Tullius' help, and even though it frustrated her in more ways than one that she'd failed, she knew aiding the Stormcloaks was the right thing to do. The elves have tortured and still torture a lot of people, innocent people including her, simply because of the god they worship. She couldn't allow the elves to alter Skyrim, her birthplace, into another Dominion and would hinder their reach here as much as she could.

To Balgruuf she'd said she agreed with Ulfric on many levels, but if that were true she couldn't tell. The Jarl of Windhelm was an enigma to her, a person she had no idea how to gauge or what to expect of him. She only knew him through the rumors stretching all over the land, and if they were true then there was nothing pleasant about him to know. Truthfully, he fought against the elves, showed resistance, and that was enough for her. She didn't need to understand or know of his motives, she only wanted to avenge her own family and the misery she had to go through because of them.

She cleared her throat and readjusted, quickly banishing any thoughts of her parents because thinking of them brought more pain then comfort. Even decades later, tears blurred her vision whenever she would allow her mind to venture that far into the past. There was no time for that, she decided, as she focused her thoughts on the oncoming battle, instead. The people killed during the assault were easier to think about than her killed family.

####

Skyrim during sunset was beautiful, she admitted, completely bewildered by the mix of colors on the sky that she hadn't felt the carriage had come to a stop. The view was calming, the pale blue color mixed with various shades of orange and purple and a few clouds scattered around, but it gave her a sense of peace she hadn't felt in a long time. She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, and she felt reborn, a sudden strength invigorating her as though she drank from a well of power.

"Eh!" someone called and it shattered the serene thoughts she'd occupied herself with. Startled she sat up only to find the carrier giving her a stern look, "Out with ya, we're in front of the gates to Windhelm."

Minerva jumped out and quickly headed towards the gate. It wasn't snowing she realized and enjoyed the dusk colored city of Windhelm as she strode through the streets. The people were on to their business, not paying her any attention at all. It wasn't until she reached the palace gate that the guards greeted her with a firm, "Dragonborn."

She nodded back in greeting before entering and found Jorleif standing close to the throne, talking to someone. She made a beeline for the war room and was glad when she found the Jarl inside, but she wasn't too happy to find Galmar in the same room. They were discussing something but Jarl Ulfric silenced mid sentence when their gazes were drawn to her, whatever he wanted to say forgotten. Galmar stood opposite of the Jarl with his arms crossed and his features narrowed in suspicion, with the table holding the map of Skyrim between them.

Ulfric stood straight when he regarded her, wondering loudly, "What news do you bring, Unblooded?" The silence left after his question was deafening, if she listened closely she would probably hear their breathing and heartbeat, despite standing so far from them.

There was no need for honey covered words, the Jarl wanted the truth, plain and simple, no matter how painful it was. Somehow, she admired him for that. "Not good," she said, "He refused. He sent word to Tullius for reinforcement as soon as I left Dragonsreach."

The tension settling in the room after her revelation suffocated her and she inhaled deeply, allowing herself to look at the Jarl's face. His features were set, his jaw tight and there was a hard look in his eyes, one that almost made her flinch. He clearly had hoped for a different outcome, she realized as she freely looked at him. The thought both unsettled and calmed her for reasons unknown to her.

But whatever emotion he showed on his face disappeared almost instantly, admitting, "Then I was wrong about him," loud enough for Galmar to hear. "You were right, Galmar."

"Again?" There was a hint of satisfaction in the generals voice and Ulfric's features darkened. Luckily, he directed his ire at the now smirking general.

"I'm in no mood to joke," Ulfric's voice was bitter when he warned, but the general didn't seem to take him seriously.

Galmar leaned his hands on the massive stone table and leaned forward, the posture he was in now making him appear even taller than he was. His voice was sharp, without a fraction of a doubt when he informed, "Give the word, my lord, and Whiterun shall be yours."

Only one word would plunge the city into chaos, Minerva contemplated as she watched the scene unfolding between them. They hadn't told her to leave so she decided to stay and see how everything would unfold.

"Whiterun is only a means to an end," Ulfric spoke lowly, sounding as if he lost the will to fight.

But Galmar was persistent and continued to persuade him, to banish the doubt. "I've toured our camps, Ulfric. We're ready… whenever you are." But there was no whenever with Galmar. With whenever he meant now and the Jarl knew so, as well as Minerva. Galmar pushed him forward even if the Jarl wasn't completely certain in his decisions. She couldn't decide whether she would be grateful for such a friend or not.

Ulfric leaned his hands on the surface, deep in thought. She didn't know him as well as Galmar did, but she could feel the tension and indecision radiating from him. He was clueless and at the moment he wasn't afraid to show it.

His voice was grave, worried even, when he asked, "Is any man ever ready to give the order that will mean the deaths of many?"

It was surprising to see the Jarl openly confess his indecision and insecurity, it showed he was thinking about the casualties, about the people that would inevitably die during the siege. It showed he wasn't a heartless monster many of the people described him to be. In a way, she could relate to him. She was the Dragonborn, a horde of responsibilities rested on her shoulders and she had to make numerous decisions about their next course of action. There was no time for doubt or indecision in their lives, they had to decide fast and correctly because if not, many would lose their lives.

Whiterun wasn't just another fort to free, it was a city with guards and old walls that protected its citizens, and so many people would die because he incited the rebellion. If they failed, he would be responsible for their failure, for the deaths of his soldiers and that was why he hesitated. Or so she thought. She couldn't know what was going through his mind but she could at least understand the reason behind his hesitation.

What she knew however, was that no one was ever ready for such an order. Everyone with a sane mind and righteous heart would think twice before giving such an order that would lead to the misery and death of others. Righteous heart, she couldn't help but repeat in her mind, wondering whether Jarl Ulfric and a righteous heart could ever belong in the same sentence.

Galmar was silently looking at the Jarl, waiting for the order, but the Jarl's gaze was fixed on something on the map. It was so easy to see how his mind fell down a well of darkness with no end in sight.

"No man ever is." The words came out of her mouth on their own and they were directed solely on the Jarl of Windhelm. She could feel Galmar's piercing gaze like icicles boring into her, but her focus was directed at Jarl Ulfric and how he barely reacted to her words. Somehow however, she knew he was listening. She couldn't explain it other than a shift in the air that urged her to continue, "And neither is every man able to give that order when he must."

First, he watched her from the corner of her eyes for a heartbeat, then he moved his head barely toward her giving her a clear view of his features. "But you are that man. There is no doubt you will make the right decision and lead us all to victory. It's what you have done so far, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

Galmar gave to what she thought was a sound of approval but her eyes remained glued to the Jarl, it fascinated her how a few well-placed words were enough to set his mind with determination. The indecision clouding him evaporated, the spark in his eyes showing he was ready.

"Truer words have not been spoken in a while," Galmar stated and his voice took a sharper edge, one that was meant to convince Jarl Ulfric, entirely. "And don't forget that these men and women call themselves Stormcloaks because they believe in you. They're the meanest, toughest sons of bitches Skyrim has to offer. And they want this as much as you do. Perhaps they want it even more."

The Jarl was contemplating, the wheels turning behind his eyes as he set the final pieces of the plan together, his eyes fixed on the map again. With each heartbeat that passed however, she could feel the hesitation shift into pure determination.

He inhaled and looked at Galmar, wondering, "So we're ready then?" and before Galmar could answer Ulfric continued, "Legionnaires will surely bolster Whiterun's army. And those walls around Whiterun are old, but they still stand."

There was a slight note of panic in his voice, but Galmar was the definition of calm when he simply said, "We're ready. Besides," A smug smirk curled the corners of Galmar's lips before he looked at her, and Minerva resisted the urge to look away, "We have the Dragonborn fighting for us."

The Jarl's eyes found hers again and she nodded confidently, saying, "We're ready," and witnessed how his features became set with purpose.

"Alright. This is it," Ulfric exhaled sharply after what felt like an eternity of back and forth.

Galmar pounded both his fists on the table and growled in eagerness, the lone candle at the edge of the map falling over and onto the stone floor.

"Send the word. 'A new day is dawning and the sun rises over Whiterun.'"

Galmar nodded, "Aye, and the sons of Skyrim will greet that dawn teeth and swords flashing."

Galmar left the war room to do what the Jarl ordered him, Minerva wanted to do the same but the Jarl stood tall as he faced her, saying, "And so it begins. Make haste to our camp at Whiterun. I want you on the front lines."

The blunt request took her a bit by surprise but she agreed nonetheless. "Yes, my Jarl," she said with a bow of her head as she approached him, with his ax in hand. She didn't know if to hand it to him or leave it on the map, she decided for the latter and caught him watching the weapon solemnly. Assuming she was allowed to leave, she spun for the door. She was determined to get to the camp as soon as possible, to unleash her suppressed fury on the fools that favoured the Empire.

"I have a feeling about you."

His confession pulled her to a stop an inch before the door and she looked at him over her shoulder. The Jarl of Windhelm stood straight with his hands behind his back, his voice softer and more collected when he remarked, "Your place is on the battlefield. I need you there."

She couldn't agree more. "Of course, my Jarl."

He nodded once and with a departing look he left for the door at the end of the war room and Minerva headed for the exit of the palace. Once the cold wind hit her skin, she hurried towards the city gate, too eager to get to Whiterun as soon as possible. She was eager to spill some Imperial blood.


	11. Safe

She reached the Whiterun camp within the next few hours, she pushed the steed to its limits, only took a short stop for it to drink water and get a bit of rest. The steed survived and she abandoned it close to the camp. Whiterun could be seen in the not too far distance and she noticed a few barricades on the path towards the city. The Imperials stood guard among the protective walls, but she couldn't recognize whether they were Tullius' soldiers or Whiterun's guards. It made her wonder whether Jarl Balgruuf's letter reached Tullius in time, otherwise they would face more resistance. She hoped Galmar was prepared for every scenario.

Giving the city one final look she made her way towards what she guessed was Galmar's tent. The group of Stormcloak soldiers she passed roared the word _Dovahkiin_ when they noticed her, which caught the attention of the other Stormcloaks nearby. She was aware of their looks, aware of their murmur as she finally pushed the flaps of the tent open to enter. Galmar was inside, alone.

"Breton," he spoke firmly as she approached the war table, "The Jarl put you on the front lines, that's where you will be. He has a lot of faith in you, but I still need convincing."

She nodded, though she couldn't care less what he thought of her. "What's with the greeting outside?" she pointed with her thumb to the outside of the tent.

Galmar understood what she spoke of, "You're the Dragonborn. Get used to it."

She didn't crave for the unnecessary attention, but she partially understood why either the Jarl or Galmar had spread the rumor among the others about her being the Dragonborn. "Was that really necessary?" she asked and hoped he would understand what she was referring to.

Galmar didn't hesitate to show his disinterest but understood what she was asking, "No, but he deemed it necessary and that is what matters." So Jarl Ulfric had been the one to announce her presence among their ranks. "You better fight well, _Dragonborn_ , or you might embarrass yourself on the battlefield." He spat the word _Dragonborn_ as if disgusted by it and she exhaled deeply as realization dawned upon her.

Galmar Stone-Fist couldn't stand her. The reason why was oblivious to her, but she wouldn't let him treat her like this. She didn't do anything to earn his distrust.

"And why does the oh so great Galmar Stone-Fist despise me?" she crossed her arms and held her head high.

Galmar's gaze sharpened even more and Minerva could see the level of despise he felt towards her. His voice carried the same amount of venom as his gaze when he revealed, "A Dragonborn wouldn't cower from their destiny. A Dragonborn rallies the people and isn't afraid to fight."

He was referring to the time she'd killed a dragon in Windhelm so many months ago and fled, and the mention of it filled her with utter shame. She knew he referred to it because he was there, with Jarl Ulfric, and watched her run away with her tail between her legs. He closed the distance between them and stood before her, and all of a sudden the courage left her as Galmar appeared even taller than she remembered. His words were poison that quickly swallowed every inch of her gathered confidence as he spat, "You being the Dragonborn is nothing but a joke. The Jarl might think highly of you, but to me you are nothing but a mere Breton."

He bumped her shoulder on purpose as he walked past her, the hit hard enough to bruise her but the pain was nothing compared to the shame she felt. Silence filled the tent as she stood there, glaring at the ground. He was right to call her a coward; she'd delayed her destiny, ignored it even, and the others noticed that as well. If Galmar was the one to notice, then the Jarl surely did too. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her. How could she ever look in the Jarl's eyes again and pretend to be courageous and brave?

There was a war going, there was no time to dwell on her past mistakes. The inner turmoil convulsed her stomach so hard she almost felt nauseous as she headed out of the tent. She was immediately greeted by a random group of Stormcloaks, who looked at her in awe. Minerva nodded once to them, shame filling her gut again as she made her way to the gathering, with Galmar on top of the group

Galmar addressed the soldiers and spoke of the plan on how to advance on the city, she didn't dare look up and instead focused on the ground below her. Now that she knew just how pitiful he thought of her she felt clumsy, unsure of her abilities. She was the Dragonborn but she was also a coward, one that didn't deserve to be the warrior of legend. The other Stormcloaks probably laughed her out because she thought she was someone important, a great warrior. Even to them she was probably nothing but a joke.

Everything around her silenced, she could partially hear the order to attack and snapped out of her thoughts as the Stormcloaks around her roared, ready to face their enemy. When Galmar gave the all clear to attack it was as though he released hungry wolves towards their enemies. As the Jarl had ordered, she was on the front line along with Galmar and another few high ranking officers.

Her fire magic burned their enemies alive, her ice magic turned them into a living statue of ice and her summoned weapon found the little openings of their leather armor precisely, the blood squirting from the wounds. There were no battlemages amongst their enemies she realized which only made it easier to unleash her fury.

_To me, you are nothing but a joke._

Galmar's words echoed in her mind and ignited an all consuming anger. With every new lifeless body joining the dead already lining the ground, either by her blade or magic, turned the shame from earlier into pure frustration. An Imperial ran at her with her weapon held high ready to strike but Minerva evaded with a roll to her right, and in one fluid motion she sliced the woman's back lethally.

Why did the general's words matter to her? Why was she allowing him to talk to her like he did? Moreover, why did she care at all, about what he thought of her? She had no answers to the questions popping up in her mind as she used her fire magic to burn three soldiers alive, the stench of burnt flesh filling the air around them. She was still ashamed of the fact she denied her destiny for so long, yes, but she only needed to take a look at her surroundings to find the proof of her qualities. Many dead Imperials lined the ground because of her skills. Although not professionally trained, she learned to use swords the proper way, knew how to defend herself and combine her sword skills with her magic. The proof of her skills, of her strength, was evident. Whatever Galmar thought of her shouldn't matter and she couldn't care less if he would ever change his mind about her.

Lowering the drawbridge was her current objective and she hacked her way through the increasing number of Imperials. Archers lined the high wall protecting the lever to lower the drawbridge. The group of Stormcloaks closest to her used their bows and arrows to shoot at the Imperials which gave her all the opening she needed. The few Imperials protecting the lever on foot were nothing she couldn't deal on her own, and after the last of them fell she pulled the lever. Minerva stared at the newly revealed path like a starving animal would at a feast. She'd made her way into the city without using the Thu'um, but she would make sure to use it now, to show them the power of the Dragonborn.

####

_The next day, Ivarstead inn…_

"And then the Shout came! The Thu'um carried across the wind with ease and the enemies fell limp to the ground! The fire released with the power swallowed everything in its path! Nothing was safe from it, not even water!"

Minerva drank her mug empty and placed it back on the table before she resumed eating her food, unable to block the warrior yelling the story of how she'd used the Thu'um during the battle for Whiterun. More Stormcloaks requested more of the story, to which the storyteller gladly obeyed, with the music of the lute added to the background.

"Closer we came to Dragonsreach, and the Jarl stood from his throne, confident and eager to battle! But the power of the Thu'um forced him into submission! The fear shone in his eyes and he surrendered like a coward!"

The cheers boomed around the tavern, Minerva looked behind her shoulder to find them all holding their mugs up in the air requesting to hear even more of their glorious victory. Minerva shook her head and focused back on the food, blocking out everything that followed including cheers and praise to her, the Dragonborn.

After they'd completed the siege, Galmar had ordered her to return with a handful of guards to Windhelm, to inform the Jarl of their victory. But with everyone exhausted, she decided to rest at the inn of Ivarstead. Galmar and the others stayed behind in Whiterun until any further notice.

"What a glorious day!" cheered Ralof, the ale he drank already getting to his head. The other Stormcloaks cheered a loud, "Aye!" and the tavern floor seemed to vibrate from the ferocity of their voices.

She tried to focus on the food, but even the deafening celebration couldn't block Galmar's words. She thought she had figured out everything, that she'd changed from that idiotic coward to a prestiged warrior; it took only a couple of words to shatter her pride, and she once again felt like a coward, despite the entire tavern praising her, despite her skills during the battle.

"And it is all thanks to the Dragonborn! Long live the Dragonborn!" Ralof roared and the entire tavern followed, their mugs in the air in toast before they emptied it. Minerva didn't lift her attention from the food on her plate, suddenly a strong arm came around her shoulders pulling her to the person now sitting next to her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ralof's sweet voice came from next to her, his speech a bit slurry.

Minerva managed to smile as she looked at him, trying her best to sound normal. "I'm just a bit tired," she assured as she looked around; nobody was paying them any attention and she couldn't help but whisper, "Aren't you afraid someone might see us?" referring to the way he was holding her impossibly close to him.

But Ralof only laughed at her worry, "Please, and they can do what, exactly? We're celebrating our victory!"

Minerva was only partially aware of the tavern door being slammed open, captivated by the boyish glint in his tipsy gaze.

"The Thalmor are here!" a young boy shouted, peeling everyone's focus to him. "They're here! Ahh!" just as he managed to flee from the entrance, the Thalmor ducked under the door behind and entered, standing tall and confident.

Every Stormcloak stood slowly from their seat and drew their weapons, Minerva was carefully eying the Altmer as he entered further, with four battlemages in tow.

"We are looking for someone in this tavern," spoke the Altmer in the armor. Minerva hated the sound of their voice, and could recognize it from miles away. "Cooperate and no harm shall fall on to you."

"You're demanding cooperation from the wrong kind of people, elf!" a Stormcloak growled, his ax and shield ready.

But the Altmer didn't even look at him and instead they scanned the crowd. Minerva swallowed. "Minerva Sable-Shield!" her full name boomed through the room and everyone went silent.

Ralof gasped from next to her, sounding still a bit tipsy as he whispered, "Why are they looking for you?!"

It took a moment for the High Elf to identify her among the crowd, but when his soulless eyes found hers she had to suppress her wish to Shout him to pieces. It was still too soon to advance mainly because she had no idea how many of them were outside. "In the name of the Aldmeri Dominion, you are hereby arrested! Come peacefully and no harm shall happen to your comrades!"

"Hey!" a Stormcloak yelled, peeling the Altmer's attention from Minerva to him as he slowly approached with his weapon drawn. "You're talking to the Dragonborn of legend! Show a little more respect!"

The Altmer eyed him angrily, keeping his calm even when he threatened, "We will use force if you disobey!"

It should have warned him, but the Stormcloak was more than happy to engage a battle. Minerva panicked and immediately started heading towards the Stormcloak, to stop him from advancing further. The four battlemages would turn him into a pile of ash even before he was within the Altmer's reach.

Minerva smelled the stench of magic in the air as one battlemage readied their magic, the Stormcloak still wouldn't back down even after the mage held their palm up, wide open, the light blue ball of magic forming an ice spike.

"No!" Minerva yelled and couldn't do anything but watch as the ice spike pierced the Stormcloaks chest. He grunted and fell with a last gasp for air before life left him. The others seemed more alert but they didn't move as the mage lowered their hand.

"You bastard…" she muttered, but the High Elf only smiled.

"By the order of His Royal Highness Arterion Larethor, you are to be arrested for betrayal, murder, conspiracy against the Aldmeri Dominion and stealing. Before any more of your friends decide to do something rash, I suggest you should come with us to spare their lives."

Minerva weighed down her options as she glared at the High Elf, but found that her room to maneuver grew thinner by the second. No matter what she thought of, nothing seemed sufficient enough. There were five Thalmor inside but there was no telling how many surrounded the inn. They always worked in groups, Minerva remembered, and clenched her hands into fists. She had no choice.

Inhaling deeply, she walked to the Altmer, hoping that on the way to wherever they were taking her she would come up with a plan to escape. The High Elf spun her around and put iron shackles on her wrists. As if that wasn't enough, he stuffed her mouth with a cloth before he wrapped another around her mouth, preventing her from speaking or Shout.

Her eyes rested on Ralof and her heart contorted. He was shocked at what was going on and the feeling of helplessness showed on his wide features. There were so many things she wanted to tell him still, how she felt when around him, wanted to share her thoughts with him. To watch him look so defeated and clueless tore at her heart as they dragged her away, but she also saw a promise in them.

He would save her and Minerva felt a little more at ease.

####

Moments later, when they were certain the Thalmor truly left, they hurried outside the tavern and could see the Thalmor's armor glittering in the distance. Two dozens of soldier's walked in front and behind her to block any threat. To him it looked like they took the road towards the north of Skyrim, to Windhelm, but he couldn't say for certain.

"Ralof, you don't plan to stay here?" a comrade asked to which Ralof turned to face them all, only to meet the bloodlust in their eyes.

"Of course not, but we have to find out where they are taking her. Then we can send word to the Jarl of Windhelm. If we're lucky they're heading towards Windhelm."

"Why there?" a woman asked.

Ralof shrugged, "I don't know, but something tells me they're going to camp close to the mountains near Windhelm. We need to make sure to follow them." They decided to follow on foot and kept a moderate distance behind the Thalmor agents. Ralof didn't know why they took her captive, but he wouldn't sit idle and let them take her back to the Altmer Kingdom.

"Don't worry Minerva; we're coming for you," Ralof whispered into the night, determined to save her.

####

_Hours later..._

Minerva had no idea how long they've been walking, but her feet hurt and wearing the blindfold didn't make it any easier for her. She was attached to a horse through a leash on her neck and she stumbled every few seconds, unable to keep the pace. She could barely keep up with them but knew if she fell, no one would care to pull her back up; that was just how the High Elves operated.

She lost her footing and fell hard, and just as she feared no one was going to help her up. The snow crawled inside her armor, chilling her to the bones as she barely managed to keep her head up. She pulled on the shackles but they were tight around her wrists, but they didn't drain her magic which meant they didn't know she wielded magic. It gave her an option Minerva was grateful for, however she would probably burn her own skin in the process in order to burn the shackles apart.

Moments passed and she felt the terrain underneath her change, tiny rocks and mud rolled inside her armor instead of snow. She wondered where they'd taken her.

They stopped and someone pulled her up by her hair, the action burned her scalp and she winced. They removed the blindfold and she squinted to adjust to the dim light. They were at a camp, she realized, and she looked around in horror; there were maybe hundreds of Thalmor strewn around the camp, warrior's and battlemages all of them heavily armed and ready. They stood near the entrance to a cave and a dark figure stepped outside. With the few candles and torches lit around them she could barely make out the face approaching her, but when he was close enough she wanted to vomit.

"My lord, here is the Breton you were searching for," said the soldier holding her.

The Altmer before her smiled and Minerva felt the fear crippling her as she looked at the very familiar, yet unpleasant face. She'd dreamed of this, to face him again just so she could get her revenge for everything he'd done to her, but now that he stood before her her courage evaporated.

"Into the cave with her," he ordered, before adding, "Scout the perimeter, I don't want any surprises."

"Yes, my lord!"

Minerva was pushed forward into the cave, maneuvered through the halls where many Thalmor stood guard. The shelfs strewn around the hallways were filled with alchemy ingredients and potions, that much she could see, and the weapon racks carried rusty but still useful weapons. Minerva moved her eyes around, memorizing the layout of the cave as best she could, carefully searching for any items which could help her escape. They came to a clearing with a huge bed and various accommodations placed around, a dining table at the center with cooked meat and fruits served. On the far end, she caught chains dangling from the wall and the Altmer pushed her towards it. A cell was right next to it, but she wasn't going to spend her time inside of it, she realized. He forced her to sit and he secured her chains to the ones hanging from the wall. Once he was done he left, leaving her alone along with the other guards posted near the entrance.

The two guards were talking to each other and although they all but whispered, Minerva could hear their voices reverberating off of the walls. She hated their language and desperately wished to block their voices because it stirred many unpleasant memories to the surface, but when the voice she recognized and hated the most became louder and closer, there was no chance in ignoring it. Through the archway stepped none other than lord Kaelas and he immediately headed towards her. He took the nearby chair and placed it in front of her before he sat on it, giving her his entire attention.

"Minerva," he exhaled her name, just as he'd done in the past so many years ago. He looked delighted, happy, as he watched her. "Just as beautiful as I remember. Even more now."

Lord Kaelas had been particularly fond of her while she was a prisoner on the Summerset Isles, he'd been the one responsible for taking her innocence. She'd been barely into adulthood but he took her maidenhood without any consideration. How she wished to burn him until he was nothing but ash, and she would do so as soon as the chance presented itself.

"Surely you wonder why I'm here and what will happen to you?" he started as he took a small pouch from his belt, mixing whatever was inside with his forefingers with his attention on the task. "No doubt you have questions you wish to ask, and I will gladly answer them once we're out of this gods forsaken land. Oh, and His Royal Highness sends his regards, he will be delighted to have you back."

He looked over his shoulder and motioned for the two guards to come. They held her legs in place as Kaelas came closer, taking a mixture of herbs out of the pouch. Her eyes widened as she recognized the mix, violently she shook her head, trying to wiggle her legs free of their hold, but to no avail.

With one hand he cupped her face roughly, holding it in place and he pushed the herb inside her mouth which was quite easy thanks to the cloth, and rubbed the mixture on to her tongue. She knew and dreaded what was about to happen; in an hour or little more the poison would make its way through her bloodstream. She would start to feel dizzy, drunk even, and unable to do anything. They'd fed her with the poison so many times she'd lost count, and she knew if its effects and side effects.

Minerva was still squirming, but Kaelas's cold eyes remained on her as the two guards released their hold on her, returning to their posts. "Yes yes my love, soon I will have you do anything it takes to make me happy. Isn't that correct?" he said as she squirmed and spoke intangible things into the cloth.

Kaelas left but the two guards remained at the entrance, watching her every move. She desperately tried to break free of the chains, squirming and pulling at them to test if they could hold her weight. She gave up after numerous failed attempts to break their hold and rested her head against the wall, breathing heavily. Tears blurred her vision and she closed her eyes, the faces of Ralof, Delphine, Ulfric, Lydia and Lucia and everyone else she'd met during her time in Skyrim swimming before her mind's eye. The thought of having to serve the Altmer again filled her with dread and disgust. She couldn't do it again, not after she found out who she really was and what her destiny was. She would rather kill herself than having to serve them again.

Time went by and the effects of the poison slowly started to manifest. Her mind became dizzy, the room started to blur and spin as she felt the numbness spread in her body. Strange voices manifested in her mind as she strained her vision to see the figure approaching her. Once the figure knelt next to her she recognized Kaelas, how hungrily his eyes wandered over her form. His hand came up and touched her breast, kneading it under his grip.

"So soft," he muttered and licked his lips, then moved it between her thighs to rub her most intimate parts. She wanted to kick him but her leg merely jolted. Kaelas leaned away, muttering, "A little longer, my love." He stood and Minerva could barely make out that he left.

She lost track of time as the poison grew stronger, her vision blurred to the point she couldn't recognize anything, the light emanating from the torches a blurry mess. Minerva heard an increased ruckus coming from just outside, but she didn't trust her mind at the moment. Someone entered, then a group followed inside. They were moving but she couldn't see properly.

A muffled yell pierced the air and she could make out several people falling over someone, holding him in place as someone approached her. Minerva squirmed as much as she could as the figure knelt next to her. She didn't want to look, but when the person cupped her face not too gently and forced her to, relief washed over her as she recognized the figure. It was Jarl Ulfric.

Panic overwhelmed her when he disappeared, but the next second he was back and unlocked the chains from her wrist. Her arms slumped as they became free of the chains and she couldn't hold up her weight, but he caught her and lifted her into his arms. She relaxed against him and felt her mind slip into unconsciousness. The Stormcloaks found her. She was safe.

####

It felt good to slice his ax into the Thalmor, even though the satisfaction it stirred equally disturbed him. The camp had been overflowing with the elves, it was why they had needed to wait for reinforcement. To his surprise, even Jarl Ulfric appeared, carrying enough magic resist potions for everyone.

Almost all of the Thalmor in the cave were killed and when the last enemy in front of him fell, he allowed himself to look around. A group of Stormcloaks carried presumably their leader out of the cave and seconds later did Jarl Ulfric arrive, carrying an unconscious Minerva in his arms. Ralof's alarms immediately went off and he followed Jarl Ulfric outside. The Stormcloaks took care of the few remaining Thalmor as they exited the cave and they went to the nearest cot in a makeshift storage room. Jarl Ulfric gently sat her down and carefully leaned her against the wooden wall.

"They drugged her," Ulfric stated lowly before he whistled. A white steed appeared quickly and Jarl Ulfric looked at Ralof. "I'll take her and a handful of warrior's back to Windhelm. You stay back and make sure to eradicate everything that moves."

Ralof, although not liking the idea to stay behind and fight, had no choice but to accept. Without peeling his eyes from Minerva, he asked, "What about the Thalmor survivor?"

Ulfric was securing a few things to his steed when he answered, "We'll throw him into the dungeons, see if he can give us any information. I'm sure the Dragonborn will be delighted to have a few words with him."

Jarl Ulfric mounted the steed and motioned for Ralof to help her up. Ralof carefully lifted her from the cot, knowing she would survive but also feeling incredibly helpless as well. He couldn't help but stare at her features before he handed her to the Jarl. He carefully seated her in front of him before he yelled for a handful of guards to accompany them.

Before they departed, Jarl Ulfric turned to Ralof with a clear order, "Burn everything down and bring the Thalmor bastard to the palace. Talos watch over you!" He yanked the reigns hard and they all galloped off towards Windhelm.

Ralof was relieved to find her alive, but he couldn't ignore the spark of jealousy spreading like wildfire in his gut as he watched the Jarl gallop off into the distance with her in his arms.


	12. Reprisal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contains scene of torture and violence

She blinked her eyelids open and listened closely to her surroundings, but was met with utter silence. The pattern of the stone ceiling caught her attention at first, but the room started to spin and a heavy nausea flooded her. The tranquillity dissipated quickly, too quickly, as the side effects of the poison erupted. She sat up with her hand on her mouth and looked to her right, and was relieved to find a bucket placed next to the bed. She fell on her knees on the floor and crawled to the bucket, and hugged it close to herself as she vomited. Cold sweat formed on her forehead as another wave of nausea came, but not much came out. Her mind was spinning violently as though she was trapped in a barrel rolling down a never ending hill. Knowing the side effects would torture her for the next few hours horrified her and she exhaled shakily.

There was movement behind her, but the nausea barely allowed her to breathe steadily and she shut her eyes tightly. A cold hand rested on her shoulder and she jolted away from the person, her back hit the bed and she panicked as she tried to recognize them. Even her vision seemed to betray her and shift, not allowing her to understand what creature, whether human or elven, knelt in front of her.

"Calm down, woman," an elderly voice spoke as they grabbed both her hands to keep her from moving. "Listen to me!" the male voice urged. Minerva could feel the slight pulse of magic coming from him and she blinked in hope to finally see properly.

An old mage with a dark cap stared down at her, now holding a tiny brown bottle of liquid. He uncorked it and handed it to her as he urged, "Drink this, quickly, before another wave of nausea hits you."

He was no Altmer so she was probably away from the camp. Hopefully, she could trust him as she hesitantly took the bottle from him. Normally, she would never accept a bottle offered from a stranger, but the mere thought of having to suffer the side effects of the poison for the next few hours dimmed her wariness. She swallowed the tasteless liquid in hope to feel better and held her breath as she anticipated the worst. Inhaling deeply, she found she didn't feel as nauseous as before and with each second that passed she felt better.

She looked down at her body and found she was dressed in an oversized white shirt and loose trousers. Looking up, she found the unknown mage looking at her and she decided to find out where exactly she was.

"Where am I?"

The mage's voice was gruff as he took the empty bottle from her, answering flatly, "You're in the palace, in Windhelm."

"Windhelm?" she was confused. She had no idea how she arrived at the palace of the Kings. There were broken images of her memory, but nothing she could put together. She hoped the man would tell her more. "How did I get here?"

The man stood and walked to the nearby alchemy table. He cleared his throat as he fiddled with the ingredients strewn over the surface, stating, “You can ask Jarl Ulfric about it.” Minerva wanted to inquire further as she watched the unknown man take a book from the shelf. He searched for something but quickly found the chapter of interest and clicked his tongue. "Ah, they gave you an aphrodisiac, one with very dangerous side effects."

Her stomach turned in disgust at the mention of the poison. "This wasn't the first time I received this," she stated harshly, testing her strength as she stood up from the floor and sat on the bed. The numbness was still there, mostly in her legs and arms, but it wasn't as draining as the nausea.

The mage looked at her over his shoulder with concern written in his eyes as he growled, "Hmm… could be your dragon blood gave you some kind of immunity. Otherwise, I can't think of anyone surviving so many doses of this."

Minerva grit her teeth as she looked out the closest window, admiring the pale blue color of the sky. If the man only knew how many times the Altmer had fed her with that mix of herbs, even now she shuddered at the taste and feared its side effects. She'd been sick for hours, days sometimes, but they'd refrained to give her something to relieve the symptoms. Instead, they waited until she'd recovered so they could force another dose down her throat. It was disgusting.

"Ah, Jarl Ulfric."

Minerva turned her head at the mention of the Jarl and found him standing a few feet away from the bed. The mage continued, "Our patient is alive and well, as you can see."

"That I can see, Wuunferth."

Minerva stood from the bed on wobbly legs and bowed her head a little before she stood straight with her chin raised. "May I ask what exactly happened?" she wondered.

Ulfric gave her a quick once over before he motioned with his head to follow him. Without waiting for her he already walked towards the door and she hurried her steps to catch up with him, even though the numbness hindered her to walk as fast as she normally would. They left the room and entered a hallway, Minerva had no idea which part of the palace she was in but she refrained from asking. She needed to focus to keep up with him since she was sometimes dragging her feet over the stone floor in order to walk as fast as him.

"There is a lot to discuss," Jarl Ulfric started and she realized he slowed his steps so she could easily keep up with him. For that she was grateful. "Word of our victory traveled fast. I heard Balgruuf was forced into submission."

Minerva could vaguely remember the tale the Stormcloak soldiers had spread to the crowd of the inn of Ivarstead, remembered his exaggeration of the details. She frowned and warned, "It would be wise not to believe every tale about the siege of Whiterun, my Jarl."

"Is that so?" he questioned, intrigued, but he kept his attention forward.

Minerva nodded and decided to be blunt, "Aye, because your soldiers tend to exaggerate the details."

The Jarl didn't react to her statement and they silently continued to their destination. Moment's later they entered the palace hall but they continued towards the war room. They were alone when they passed the archway, with a few soldier's posted at their usual place in the hall. She had a bad feeling about being in the same room as him alone, and dreaded what would follow next. No doubt he had questions but she also had a few of her own to ask. She hoped he would be cooperative enough to answer them.

Once she was certain they would remain here, she watched his back as he fiddled with something on the war table, and decided now it was a good time to ask what exactly had happened, how she escaped. "If I may ask," she started but he kept his back to her, "What happened? I don't remember fleeing the camp." She knew the Altmer had drugged her, but anything beyond she couldn't recall. There were faint images and sounds echoing in her mind, but nothing which made any sense.

Jarl Ulfric turned to face her with his hands to his back. She wondered if he held something out of her view. "Ralof and the group of soldier's followed the Thalmor to the camp before they had sent word to Windhelm. I gathered enough forces and stormed the camp. You were unconscious when I found you."

It was thanks to both Ralof and Jarl Ulfric that she was safe and out of the Altmer's reach, but that didn't make her feel any better. Guilt turned her stomach, they both had to risk a lot because of her stupidity, her recklessness. This wouldn't have happened if she'd refrained from staying in Ivarstead, and instead did as Galmar told her to. She was too naive to think the Altmer wouldn't be able to find her again. 

She swallowed as she averted her gaze to the floor, suddenly feeling very ashamed for everything that had occurred. She inhaled deeply and decided to give an explanation. "I apologize, my Jarl," her voice was small and she was too embarrassed to look at him as she continued, "Galmar has sent me and a group of Stormcloaks back to Windhelm, to inform you of our victory in Whiterun, but we remained in Ivarstead to celebrate our victory.”

“And I see no harm in that,” he dismissed sharply and she looked at him, surprised. He casually leaned his rear against the war table and crossed his arms, looking her over as he wondered, "Why are the Thalmor after you?"

She knew the time would come when he would demand an explanation and she thought she was prepared to give one, but she wasn't certain where to start. She wasn't too keen on letting him know everything what had befallen her in her childhood, how she watched her parents murder and how she was taken by the Altmer. Still, he needed to understand why and since he'd saved her life she was willing to talk.

Inhaling deeply, she decided to tell him half of the truth. "The Thalmor attacked my village when I was little and murdered everyone except me. They took me hostage instead and I was their prisoner for little more than two decades."

He let that revelation sink in but didn't show any emotion. "Where are you from?" he asked calmly.

She inhaled, "From Skyrim. The village I've lived in was located south of Riften."

His eyes narrowed slightly at that and he looked deep in thought. He was silent for a while before wondering, "Do you remember the name of the village?" as though he wanted to get to the bottom of something.

This time she could be completely honest and a sad smile stretched her lips, "No, I was too young to remember. You understand that a six year old doesn't really care about the name of the village."

He nodded slowly to that, averting his gaze to the floor, and Minerva let her eyes wander over the room, peeling her attention from him. Being the object of interest never did sit quite well with her and now that the Jarl freely questioned things about her past made her greatly uncomfortable.

"Your village was destroyed because its people openly worshiped Talos." The summary left her breathless and it took her a second to sort her thoughts as he fixed his gaze on hers.

She swallowed, trying her best to keep her emotions under control. "Yes," she bitterly agreed and couldn't refrain from asking, "You've heard of it?"

Thankfully, Jarl Ulfric nodded and seemed willing to explain further, "Yes. The news reached my father almost as soon as it happened. He'd sent a party after the elves, but they were already gone." Jarl Ulfric moved from the table and slowly approached her with his arms crossed. She swallowed nervously as she became more and more aware of their height difference.

Keeping her emotions locked, she added, "It was a slaughter. They've killed a village of farmer's who didn't know how to fight back."

"What was your father's name?" he asked and she couldn't help but notice how softer than usual he sounded.

The question twisted her gut painfully and she blinked rapidly, willing herself to block the upheaval of emotions rioting inside of her. "Thondal Sable-Shield, my Jarl," she sounded so small, even to herself. Saying her father's name felt strange and she watched his face closely for any reaction.

His features narrowed for a second as he searched his memory and Minerva anxiously awaited his answer, even though it wouldn't change anything. Her father was dead, whether the Jarl had known him or heard of him by some miracle, but there was no reason for the Jarl of Windhelm to have known him because her father had been a farmer. Still, she couldn't quell the excitement as various scenarios manifested in her mind, each of where Jarl Ulfric knew her father even though it was impossible. 

"Have you known him?" she couldn't help but ask, wide eyes staring into his.

To her disappointment, he shook his head, "No, I haven't."

Somehow, she couldn't believe him. There was a feeling in her gut which told her the Jarl wasn't entirely honest with her. There was more to this, she could feel it deep down in her gut and the unease played on her features as she worked her jaw. The Jarl exhaled sharply, letting his arms fall to his sides and she knew she wasn't going to get any more information. At least not today.

"My Jarl?" Jorleif called from behind her and Minerva lowered her eyes to the floor.

"Show the Dragonborn to her new residence," Jarl Ulfric stated before he brushed past her towards the great hall.

"Of course, my lord," Jorleif appeared next to her and she looked at him. "Please follow me, my lady."

Minerva hesitantly followed the Jarl's steward and once they were through the door in the war room, they took the stairs to the upper levels. Minerva was silently following him upstairs as the question bubbled out of her, "What happened to my bed in the barracks?"

But Jorleif kept his answer short, “Orders from the Jarl. He deems the Dragonborn needs her own quarters to prepare for the battles properly.”

Minerva wanted to argue back but Jorleif was the wrong person to voice her discomfort to. He was only doing what Jarl Ulfric ordered him, so Minerva would have to voice her thoughts to the Jarl of Windhelm. The unease grew the more she followed Jorleif into the hallway, they passed a couple of doors on each side and walked a bit further until Jorleif stopped by the last door to their right.

The stairs at the end of the hallway that led to a room piqued her curiosity and she couldn't help but ask, “What's up there?”

The door creaked when Jorleif opened it as he answered, “These stairs lead to Jarl Ulfric’s room.”

A bolt of unease shot through her as she found out just how close she would be to the Jarl. It wasn't as though they would sleep together, but knowing they were on the same level and room neighbours didn't sit quite well with her. Jorleif disappeared into the room and Minerva followed, but all worries vanished as she glanced around the spacious room. A huge, neatly made bed was at the center of the wall, a huge fireplace to her right warmed the entire room. There was a desk and a few bookcases to her left, and several wardrobes and weapon racks.

Minerva couldn't stop staring as Jorleif clarified, “Your belongings have been already moved up here. If there is anything you need just ask."

After she finally took in each corner of her new residence and stepped inside further, she turned to Jorleif and wondered, “Why all this?”

Jorleif ran a hand over his beard, smoothing down the rebelling hair, “You've done our cause a great service. This is the least the Jarl could do to thank you.” He bowed his head and turned to leave, but he stopped by the door and walked back, “Oh, and a courier came by today, said he had a letter of utmost importance for you."

Minerva took the letter from him and could somehow guess who'd sent it. "Thank you."

Jorleif bowed his head and headed for the door. Once she was alone, letter in hand, she looked around the room again. Even though everything seemed flawless and clean and inviting, there was also an insistent voice in her mind advising her to be cautious. She couldn't determine what the Jarl was plotting and if he was plotting anything at all, but knowing he was so close with only a few steps between them, made her more than distressed. Still, if she was completely honest, she was glad to have somewhere else to return to, other than Breezehome.

Sighing, she sat on the bed and opened the letter.

_Meet me in Riverwood._

_D_

Delphine requested her presence which meant they'd probably found a way to get her into the Thalmor Embassy. She didn't look forward to seeing the Thalmor again and it was a risky mission, but she had no choice but to gather her courage and get through with it. Hopefully, they would find the information needed.

She lifted her attention from the letter and glanced at the bed from behind her shoulder. The pillows and sheets looked so inviting, she craved to crawl into the bed and take some rest, but Delphine needed her help and that took priority. Leaving the letter on the bed, she went to the huge vanity in the corner and frowned when she looked at her reflection; her hair was a mess and the dark circles under her eyes stood out on her pale complexion. Her hand came to her neck and gently hovered it over the bruised skin. The too tight leash the Thalmor had put around it caused the ugly bruise and she was certain it would turn even uglier within the next few days.

A pot filled with cold water next to the vanity caught her focus and she splashed some on her face. A few droplets crawled inside her shirt and she hissed, but it felt good as she wiped her face clean with a cloth. A little better, she thought as she searched for a comb and luckily found one in one of the drawers. Her black hair needed a wash but it would have to wait for another time. Gently she ran the comb through her hair after she removed as much grime and dirt as she could with her fingers. A high ponytail will do, she decided and secured it tightly with a couple of ribbons.

She headed for the wardrobe once the hair was in place, curious to see whether she could find fresh underwear inside. Luckily, there was a pair and she changed, then headed for the ebony armor stored on the mannequin in the corner. The armor was a stark contrast against her pale flesh but it would give her the best protection. It took her almost an hour to complement the armor and she took a final look in the mirror. When the armor was pieced together she made her way out and took the left turn.

When Minerva reached the war room she found it empty, but several voices came from the great hall. She passed the archway and found the Jarl talking to a handful of guards. His eyes found hers quickly and once she stopped close to them he regarded her.

"Dragonborn, there is something I think you would want to see."

Minerva crossed her arms as the guards regarded her with a nod, she did the same before averting her attention to the Jarl. "What is it?" she wondered.

"We captured an Altmer and he's now locked in the dungeon. I think he might be the one who orchestrated your capture."

Alert, she uncrossed her arms and balled them into tight fists. There was only one Altmer that came to her mind and the mere thought of him captured made her blood boil. "Kaelas?" she asked, eyes wide and expectant.

The Jarl shrugged, "I don't know his name, but he stood out from the rest of them."

"Are you heading to him?"

"Aye. You're free to ask him a few questions yourself."

Minerva couldn't miss this chance, if Kaelas was indeed locked in the dungeon she would torture him and give him a piece of his own medicine. Delphine would have to wait a little longer.

Without further debating the group headed towards the dungeons. Excitement mixed with anxiety made her heartbeat race, the memories of the horrendous things he'd made her do and had done to her flooded her mind. Numerous scenarios of his torture manifested in her mind, each more brutal than the one before. He hadn't been the only one to gain satisfaction over her misery, but he'd been the first one to get his hands on her and steal her innocence. She would make sure he would regret the choice he’d made and hopefully he would travel the planes of Oblivion until the end of time.

They reached the doors to the dungeons and Jarl Ulfric ordered the guards to wait outside. The two entered and Minerva's heart threatened to burst. She was angry, scared, anxious and eager when she found Kaelas hanging in the center of the cell. His hands were tied to magicka draining chains hanging from the ceiling and he was on his knees, a very uncomfortable position. She was certain his entire body was numb but she couldn't feel sorry for him, nor did she want to.

His soulless eyes rested on her immediately as though he could sense her and Minerva felt a wave of nausea crush on her. A confident smirk curled his lips, that much she could make out from the curtain of blonde hair falling in front of his face. "I knew you would come," he admitted, then lifted his head enough so she could clearly see his face. "My beautiful Minerva."

Minerva strode over to him and landed a heavy punch to his jaw. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back so she could look into his eyes; the smirk was gone. Pure rage engulfed her and she barely suppressed it when she barked, "Don't you dare utter my name again, you worthless piece of shit!" and brought his face down to her knee, but it didn't knock him unconscious.

She roughly let go of his hair and glared down at him, only partially aware that she wasn't the only one in the cell with Kaelas. Jarl Ulfric stood close by without uttering a word and without interfering, but carefully watching the exchange. Her magic crackled between her fingertips and the wish to torture him with it became almost irresistible. Instead of being overcome by her rage however, she tried to get a few questions out in the open to see if he would cooperate.

"How did you know where to look for me?!"

Kaelas didn't even react to her question and instead continued to speak his own nonsense as he tried to level his breathing, "You think you could get away from us, but we will always be right behind you."

"Why?!"

Kaelas chuckled and his beaten face stared up at her, "Because His Royal Highness demands it. What more of an explanation do you need?" he then continued to speak in his language and it triggered the fury she tried to control.

She punched him again, this time breaking his nose and he cried out in pain, the sound oddly satisfying. She knelt on one knee in front of him, meeting his gaze dead on as she tried to make him understand the rules. "Listen well, elf. I'm not in the mood for your rambling. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and the side effects of the herbs still make me a bit nauseous. Your friends at the camp are dead, there is no one coming after you and even if someone does, I will kill them. It is what your kind deserves."

Kaelas spat something in his elven language, pulling at what little patience she had left. She continued, "If you want this to end quick and painless, I advise you to tell me the truth. For every lie I sense coming out of you I'm going to break a bone. You hear me?"

That seemed to shake some sense into him even though he was far from intimidated. The stubborn glimmer still shone in his eyes. She needed to show him she wasn't messing around.

To test if he understood her threats, she asked, "Now tell me, how did you find me? And remember, if you lie I'm going to break a bone."

He was hesitant, but she doubted he would tell her the entire truth even if she'd managed to scare him. It took awhile for him to form an answer, "We looked for the Dragonborn because His Royal Highness said if we find the Dragonborn, we will find you."

That didn't seem like a lie, but she would have to find out how the Altmer king knew she was the Dragonborn. She needed to hear the entire truth. "How did you know I was in Ivarstead?" she demanded.

He sounded angry when he answered, "Every rumor told the same, that the Dragonborn fights for the rebellion. I ordered a scout to follow you after the battle and he waited until reinforcements arrived before he captured you."

That also seemed like the truth, she crossed her arms as she started to circle around him. She stood to his left side, glaring at the side of his head as she wondered, "How does your king know I am Dragonborn?” Only after she spoke the words did she realize how anxious they made her. 

Kaelas snorted, "How should I know? I've told you everything I know!" he sounded irritated and Minerva decided to show she was serious about her threats.

She walked to the corner and found some interesting weapons, but what caught her attention was the wooden club leaned against the wall. The spider webs indicated it stood there for a long time and she dusted the weapon as she took it. She glanced at the Jarl of Windhelm and found him casually leaned against a nightstand, his arms crossed, and watched him as if she needed his permission to use the weapon. He looked like he didn't give a damn about what she would do to Kaelas, barely shrugging his shoulders, and for that she was grateful.

She wouldn't kill him, not until they squeezed every ounce of truth out of him.

"I'm going to ask again," she spoke from behind Kaelas. He tried to look over his shoulder but the position didn't allow it. She let the irritation show in her voice when she asked again, "How does your king know I am Dragonborn?!"

"I said I don't know! No one knows the king's methods!"

She heard the hint of fear in his voice but it wasn't enough to convince her that he spoke the truth. She took the wooden club in her hands and brought it above her head, then with all her might she smashed it into his left ankle, then again, earning numerous cries of agony from the captive. The ankle snapped and was only held by the blood covered skin, the bones completely broken and the ankle deformed.

She sniffed as she watched Kaelas, the man that had brought her so much pain and misery, wail and squirm uncontrollably in agony. Right now she didn't feel anything, but later she knew she would feel victorious. She glanced over at Jarl Ulfric and found he didn't even wince at the scene unfolding in front of him, proving he'd probably had his own share of torturing information out of someone.

It took a while until his cries weakened, but he was whimpering and muttering things under his breath on the elven language. Club in hand, she circled around him until she stopped right into his face. "Am I going to hear the truth now?" she wondered, her voice bearing a threatening note.

Kaelas shook and breathed uncontrollably, showing every early stage of shock but it was just the beginning. Minerva would make sure he feared her more than the Daedric Princes. "I don't know!" he whispered, frightened. Her features narrowed at his lame reply, but before she could act he added, "I don't know how he knows, but he knew you were Dragonborn even when you were on the Isles!"

The revelation made her insides turn in disgust, a shadow of helplessness hovering above her. She couldn't help but look at Ulfric over her shoulder; he looked just as suspicious as she felt with the revelation. To think the Altmer king knew of her abilities made her doubt everything she thought she knew about them. Numerous questions rose to mind, questions she wanted answered.

Jarl Ulfric joined in on the questioning, however. "What exactly does the Dominion know about the rebellion?"

Minerva averted her attention back to Kaelas who was shaking even more now. His voice sounded so small and fragile when he answered, "I don't know… my only task was to find her and bring her back."

She looked at the Jarl and found him staring back at her, giving her a look that said 'You know what to do'. With the club in hand, she moved to stand behind him and leaned the weapon on the wall for the moment. She took the ebony dagger from her belt and grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back roughly. She brought the dagger to his ear and started cutting the earlobe first, then continued to remove the rest of the ear. His screams sounded from the moment she'd put the weapon against his skin and magnified as she held the bloody ear in her hand, walking in front of him to present it to him, kneeling on one knee.

"Elenwen," he wailed, "Elenwen oversees the situation in Skyrim. She knows everything about the rebellion and the Empire!"

She threw the ear into his face then stood to face Jarl Ulfric. He looked like he had no further questions and she found there was nothing she wanted to hear from him anymore. She thought she would have a lot more questions on her mind, but oddly enough all she could think of at the moment was how to kill him in the most degrading and painful way.

"What do you wish to do with him?" Jarl Ulfric asked.

What did she want to do with him? After all these years she never thought about the most appropriate punishment for him. Now that the Jarl asked her, her mind started coming up with cruel and horrible scenarios of his death. It didn't take her long to come to a decision and she knelt in front of Kaelas. That Altmer had been the cause for many nightmares, ones from which she suffered even now, he was largely to blame for the agony and misery she'd been through.

One thing was certain; he'd taken her innocence when she was barely an adult. Now, she would take his manhood in exchange so he could never hurt a woman again, be it elf or human. She was looking right into his eyes, a hesitant smile playing on her lips as she refused to break eye contact. This was how she wanted to remember him; bound and broken and crying, for it was what he deserved.

"You deserve a thousand deaths for what you did, Kaelas," she started, "And no death will erase the misery you put me through and the degrading things you made me do. For that… I will cut off your balls and prick, and feed them to the rats." His features froze and the fear widened his eyes. She smiled lazily as she finished, "And then I'm going to impale your head on a spike looking directly at a statue of Talos. The statue of _our_ god will be the last thing you see."


	13. Reunion

Minerva pushed the gate to the Palace of the Kings open to enter, earning wary looks from the guards by the entrance. With what had transpired earlier, however, she knew she looked as though she just returned from a mass slaughter. She'd made sure to wipe as much blood from her face and armor as possible, but much of it remained and she couldn't be bothered by it. It had been a bloody morning and looking presentable wasn't on her list currently.

She could make out Jarl Ulfric sitting on the throne with Jorleif standing to his right, the two were immersed in a conversation as she could tell. She dragged her feet as she approached them absent mindedly, feeling both exhausted and dazzled in a way. The two didn't notice her until she came close enough, and when she did they silenced.

"My Jarl," she greeted with a slight bow of her head, standing with hunched shoulders.

Jorleif looked and sounded considerate as he inquired, "My lady, is everything well?"

Minerva looked at him, but truly she was looking through him. She didn't feel her own as she replied, "Yes, everything is fine," though even they could tell the answer was almost insinuated.

"I assume the elf got what he deserved?" Jarl Ulfric asked to which Minerva nodded, briefly recalling what had transpired this morning.

She'd kept her promise to Kaelas and turned her mere threats into deeds, thanks to the help of two Stormcloaks that had accompanied her by the order of the Jarl. There was no way she could have done it on her own. The elf squirmed violently as she removed his manhood while he was still alive, the screams and cries of mercy still echoing in her mind. Then, just as she promised, they beheaded him while he was staring wide eyed at a grand statue of Talos. His head had been warm while she impaled it on a spike. She shuddered.

"I couldn't have done it without aid," she admitted, hoping to end the subject so she could be on her way to Riverwood, far away from Windhelm and the snowy mountains surrounding it.

Jarl Ulfric nodded and Minerva left the conversation at that, bowing her head before she headed for the gate, numb and dazzled. Her mind didn't register anything going on around her, by instinct her feet lead her to the city gate, then to the stables. She bought a steed, handing the gold to the owner without even counting how much was in the bag, not even caring, before she mounted the horse and galloped off.

It took her half a day's ride to the outskirts of Riverwood when she decided to stop. She'd found a clearing and secured the steed to the nearby pine tree. The river was close; she walked to the shore and slumped on her rear, feeling drained. She pulled her knees to her chest and looked at the faraway landscape, thoughts of what had transpired this very morning fouling her mood even more. The thought of meeting up with Lydia, Delphine, Hod and Gerdur suddenly irritated her to the point where she wanted to avoid and postpone whatever mission awaited her next. She was aware of the risks by doing so, but currently it didn't matter.

What she'd done to Kaelas this morning had been the right thing to do, she knew so, her wish had come true but now that it did she didn't know how to feel about it other than sickness. The images of this morning were clearly imprinted in her mind, the echoes of his screams and cries and begging so loud in her ear nothing could block it. Minerva had never tortured anyone before and now that a few hours had passed she felt sick as cold sweat formed on her forehead. Kaelas deserved everything she'd done to him, but the fact wasn't enough to make her feel good about it. As badly as she wanted to find satisfaction over his pain and death, she simply couldn't. Instead, she was appalled by herself and what she was capable of doing to another being. Now, as everything settled and she was alone with her thoughts she wanted to forget everything; wanted to forget his screams and how warm the blood dripping from his head felt.

She gagged, knowing nothing could leave her stomach since she hadn't eaten anything this morning and she closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of nature around her. Despite the idyllic nature surrounding her, all she could see was Kaelas's face as the scene from earlier this morning repeating over and over again. She was pale and grumpy when she walked back to the steed, taking the reins to walk the rest of the way to Riverwood, hoping to arrive with a somewhat clear head. She could already make out Gerdur's mill in the close distance, recognizing the Stormcloak guards now posted on the entrance to the town. She left the steed outside the town and headed to Gerdur's mill, deciding she had no patience left for Delphine at the moment.

It didn't take her long until she found Frodnar happily helping the workers carry the lumber up the mill, although Minerva doubted he was much help at all. The boy noticed her moments later, it took him a while to recognize her but when he did he abandoned whatever task he had and ran towards her. Minerva couldn't stop the smile from spreading.

The boy was out of breath when he stopped in front of her, exclaiming, "Minerva! You're back!" and she knelt on one knee in front of him.

"You've grown since the last time I saw you," she admitted, and chuckled as he leaned his fists on his waist, standing proudly before her.

"Yes! I can already wield a real sword, mother and father taught me a lot!"

A woman walked from the mill towards them, her features tense in suspicion as Minerva stood tall, recognizing her. Once she came closer a smile boomed on her face.

"Minerva!" Gerdur pulled her into a small hug before they broke apart.

Minerva couldn't contain her smile even if she wanted to. She hadn't forgotten how much the Nord woman had helped her, putting the lives of her family at risk as she did so. She hadn't received such kindness since she'd first set foot onto Valenwood after she'd escaped from the Isles. The way back to Skyrim had been a dangerous and bloody one, but she somehow managed. She shuddered, refusing to think about that chapter of her life, now.

Gerdur motioned with her head to follow and the two headed slowly towards the tree stump close to the mill. Minerva couldn't help but recall her first time here, when she and Ralof had escaped Helgen after Alduin had destroyed the entire town.

"What brings you to Riverwood?" Gerdur wondered, carrying a basket of fruit under her arm.

Minerva decided to keep the answer as short as possible, informing, "I need to meet up with a friend," and fortunately Gerdur refrained from asking further.

They sat on the tree stump and Gerdur sighed, placing the basket of fruit between them. The Nord took an apple and handed another to Minerva which she accepted. Although she wasn't hungry, she bit into the apple and enjoyed the sweet sour taste. The two watched the river flow and remained silent at first, with the sounds of nature around them. In the not too far distance, Minerva could hear the workers yelling orders and banter over their work which made her look at their direction. She recognized Hod amongst the group of people and returned her attention to Gerdur.

"How have you been?" Minerva wondered, making herself comfortable as she crossed her legs at her ankles, biting into the apple.

Gerdur flashed her a smile as she turned her head slightly in her direction, "Ah, I'm alright, Hod is as well. Frodnar is growing quickly, too quickly if you ask me. The boy is already helping wherever he can."

"You seem a lot more relaxed," Minerva observed.

Gerdur let out a nervous laugh, "After the Stormcloaks won the battle for Whiterun there are no Thalmor passing through our town. It gives us all an improved sense of security. And there is another thing…" Gerdur held Minerva's gaze when she leaned a bit in her direction to whisper, "I'm with child."

A smile boomed over Minerva's face and her expression lit up, "Congratulations. That is wonderful news."

The Nord nodded and smiled sheepishly, "Aye, I haven't been able to get a letter to Ralof, that he's going to become an uncle again." Her face tensed with worry when she asked, "Have you seen him? Is he okay?"

Minerva's own smile faltered, recalling her last encounter with Ralof. She hadn't seen him since the incident at the inn of Ivarstead and wondered where he was. She shook her head, "I've met him a couple of days ago, after the siege. But I don't know where he is now."

Gerdur was relieved with the answer and nodded, "Then I know he's alive. Thank the divines."

"You can't catch me!"

A very familiar voice sounded from behind them and Minerva turned as much as she could to look behind her shoulder. Relief washed over her as she watched Lucia running from Frodnar, both laughing brightly. Lydia appeared in the distance and Minerva stood up from the stump. Lucia's eyes were drawn to her as she came to a stop and she gasped, then ran the remaining steps.

"Min! You're here!" Lucia jumped into her arms and Minerva accepted her, spinning them around which caused both of them to laugh.

When she put Lucia back on her feet Lydia was standing in front of them, bowing her head slightly in greeting, "It's good to see you, my thane."

"You as well, Lydia," Minerva nodded, relieved to see both of them well and alive. "How have you been?"

Lydia elaborated, "After we arrived, Gerdur accepted us into their home. We stayed with them the entire time and heard news of your victory over Whiterun."

Minerva turned her attention back to Gerdur, looking at her over her shoulder. Gerdur shrugged, as though it wasn't a big deal but to Minerva it meant a lot. "Thank you, Gerdur."

"Your friends are also my friends," she stated. "It was a pleasure."

Frodnar ran over to Gerdur, placing both his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, Lucia was giggling as she came close to him, taunting him to try and catch her. He shot her a smile before looking at his mother with wide eyes, informing, "Mother, I think I saw uncle Ralof entering the town!"

Gerdur's face tensed and she headed to the direction of the gates but stopped halfway. Ralof appeared in heavy steel plate armor, a piece of bear fur draped over his shoulders. Gerdur ran the few steps towards him and threw her arms around his neck. Minerva watched them with a distant smile on her face, her cheeks suddenly warm as well as her insides.

"Look who's here as well!" she heard Gerdur say with a laugh as she walked with Ralof back to the rest of the group, Frodnar ran to them and Ralof tousled his hair, then placed a hand on the boys shoulder as the trio came closer. His eyes flew over each person, he greeted Lydia with a nod and regarded Lucia with a smile. When his eyes landed on her, Minerva felt her stomach do a pleasant flip as his smile fell, his features frozen in shock. He was no doubt surprised to see her.

"What a surprise," he admitted, smiling.

Minerva glued her eyes to his and watched as Gerdur patted his chest, stating, "Let me get Hod to help me set the table. You'll all stay, yes?" she watched from Ralof to Minerva and back, expecting both of them to accept.

Minerva couldn't say no to the woman and she nodded with a smile, Ralof agreed as well and Gerdur headed towards the mill to fetch Hod. Lydia and Lucia continued to play tag with Frodnar, they were oblivious to Ralof and Minerva now standing close to the tree stump. It brought up many pleasant memories.

"I'm glad to see you," Ralof spoke and his features tensed a little, "I didn't think I would see you that soon, honestly."

She knew what he was referring to and she shifted, disturbed because it brought up the scenario from earlier this morning. She sighed sharply, "Here I am, thanks to you. I know you followed the Thalmor and sent word to Jarl Ulfric."

Ralof exhaled sharply, "We couldn't have saved you sooner. The camp was full with Thalmor and we needed to wait for reinforcement."

Smiling, she looked up at him and admitted, "I'm just glad you came, even though you risked your own life," and watched his lips stretch into a small smile.

"Well, I couldn't allow the Thalmor to steal the Dragonborn from us! We would be clueless without your eternal guidance!" he teased, only to receive a playful punch to his shoulder which caused both of them to chuckle.

"Ralof! Minerva!"

Gerdur and Hod called and waved their hands to follow them, and the two silently did. They followed Gerdur and Hod into their home and they all took a seat at the round dining table. Lucia and Frodnar stood with their bowls close to the kettle as the scent of hot stew reached Minerva's nose, her stomach growled lowly in response. The children received their portion and sat on the floor close to the fireplace to sip their meal. Gerdur filled each bowl and Hod served it to everyone else, before the pair joined the table as well.

The food was halfway eaten but Minerva was already stuffed, but the Nords easily finished their bowls. She leaned back in her chair and sighed deeply, happy and content with her full belly.

Hod filled her mug with ale, his eyes on the task as he remarked curiously, "It's a coincidence to find the both of you here, at the same time."

Meeting Ralof in Riverwood had to be orchestrated by the divines, there was no other explanation to it, and Minerva nodded to Hod, "Aye, I didn't think to find him anytime soon."

Ralof chuckled after he sipped the ale, "I'm only passing through, actually."

"Where to?" Gerdur wondered.

"To Falkreath," Ralof admitted, "Jarl Ulfric has ordered me to the camp, to train newcomers and help the general plan the next step."

Gerdur's and Hod's features went wide as his sister inquired, "You climbed in rank?" Minerva wondered the same and she looked expectantly at the warrior across the table.

Ralof shrugged as if it wasn't important, and leaned his forearms on the table. "Aye, I stood out in the battle for Whiterun, I guess."

"Wherever you're going, be careful, brother," Gerdur pleaded, "The closer you get to the capital, the more dangerous it becomes."

Ralof's features turned solemn when he nodded once, "I know, the entire rebellion knows that. But we have the Dragonborn at our side. I think we'll be fine." He added the last one with a smile whilst looking at Minerva.

Hod raised his mug to that, stating, "No doubt the divines blessed the rebellion since you have a legendary warrior fighting alongside you! May the Empire crumble before our might!"

Everyone raised and emptied their mugs to Hod's toast. Gerdur took the moment and informed Ralof of her pregnancy. He was surprised at first, but it turned into pure joy a second later. Minerva couldn't remember seeing him any happier and the sight warmed her heart. He gave them his blessing and wished the baby all the luck and health in the world. The gesture stretched her lips in a smile and she couldn't suppress the joy engulfing her. There was no hint of worry or fear in the home anymore she noticed, and she wished she could live in such a world, where everything was simple without the threats she faced everyday.

Moment's later she stood from the table, leaving the family alone, and headed to Lydia, who was occupying herself with both Frodnar and Lucia. The trio sat on the floor close to the hearth, telling jokes but mostly Lucia was teasing Frodnar. She caught a few things Lucia joked about and smiled, and when the children noticed her they all demanded to hear of her adventures.

Minerva slumped down next to Lydia and decided to tell them a quick adventure of a made up cave and bandits. Luckily, the children couldn't tell the difference between the truth and a lie, and once the story was over they got up on their feet and headed outside. Minerva enjoyed the warmth emanating from the hearth and she watched the flames dance wildly as they swallowed the wood.

"I'm sorry you have to take care of Lucia for me," Minerva apologized, then turned to look at her housecarl.

Lydia smiled, "I don't mind, really. I like her." Her smile fell and her features saddened as she admitted, "I grew up without siblings and I consider Lucia my little sister."

Minerva nodded to that before her own smile fell completely. She watched the young warrior and leaned closer, informing, "The roads to Whiterun are safe. You two should return to Breezehome, the city is no longer under Imperial control."

Lydia inhaled while nodding, even though she seemed deep in thought. "I grew up in Whiterun, Jarl Balgruuf ruled the city since I was little. It will be strange to return knowing there is someone else ruling."

"Many lives have been lost," Minerva inserted, remembering all the people that died during the siege. "Be prepared to find the city in a different state than when you have left. The people still mourn the dead, and will do so for a long time. I think Vignar will refrain from making any drastic changes, for now."

Lydia's brows furrowed, "Vignar Gray-Mane is Jarl of Whiterun?" she asked as though she hadn't heard right. She didn't seem too thrilled about the revelation and admitted, "I hope he will keep the peace for as long as Jarl Balgruuf did. Where will you go now?"

"There is a lot to do. I need to find out more about the dragons and their return."

Lydia nodded slowly and they both gazed at the fire for a while, silently admiring the flames. The voices of Ralof, Gerdur and Hod carried from behind them as they discussed family matters. Minerva didn't want to listen in so she focused entirely on the crackling fire in the hearth.

"Well, it's best if we get on our way then," Lydia sighed and stood on her feet, with Minerva following. "If we go now, we'll reach Whiterun before nighttime."

The action pulled the attention from the other's, breaking their discussion as all of them looked at their direction, alert. Gerdur was the first to inquire, "You're leaving?" to which Lydia nodded.

She packed her belongings in a backpack and called for Lucia. The girl was disappointed to leave Riverwood even though she was also happy to return to her home. She would miss everyone she admitted, and hugged Frodnar, also promising him to visit soon. Minerva offered them her steed and Lydia gratefully took it, fastening the saddle and their belongings on it once they reached the city gates.

Lydia turned to Gerdur, "Thank you for everything, Gerdur."

Ralof's sister nodded and smiled as Lydia mounted the steed. Minerva hugged Lucia and placed a long kiss on her forehead before she helped her up to sit in front of Lydia.

"Stay safe, Min," Lucia said.

Minerva could only wish them the same, "You too, Lucia. I'll come back as soon as I can."

The girl nodded and with a final goodbye they trotted off towards Whiterun. Minerva watched them until they disappeared into the distance, then turned back to find Ralof, Gerdur and Hod watching her. She stood in front of them, stating, "I won't stay further, either."

Gerdur nodded, "Stay safe and don't be a stranger. You're welcome here." Hod nodded to that and the pair returned to their home, leaving her and Ralof alone.

They said nothing, merely watched each other silently as the people around them walked by. The sun was setting behind the horizon, Minerva decided to wait until dark before she would head over to Delphine to start their next mission. She had a little more time on her hands, then, and she was glad to spend it with him.

"You shouldn't keep the general waiting," Minerva reminded him, but all he did was erase the space between them.

He sighed, "I don't think there are words to describe how happy I am to see you," his voice was low, the softness with which he spoke warming her heart.

She smiled, admitting softly, "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You risked a lot for saving me."

"And I would do it again gladly," he admitted, his eyes shining even in the sunset. She was enraptured by them. "I can only imagine the things they did to you, how horribly they treated you. I couldn't allow the elves to do it all again."

Minerva couldn't look away from his eyes, from his beautiful ice colored pupils, but the things he'd said didn't sit quite well with her. The way he pronounced the words irritated her and she blinked the trance like state away as she thought through everything he'd confessed seconds ago. The irritation grew the more she replayed his words in her mind.

Her brows furrowed slightly and her mood fouled as she inquired, "Why would you have the need to imagine these things?" and watched how the question set his face with caution. "The things they've done remain in the past. What matters is that I despise them and, by taking me back to the Isles, you would have no chance to fight Alduin."

He was at a loss for words. Minerva was taken aback by the revelation that Ralof, in truth, pitied her. Her irritation mutated into anger slowly as her eyes widened.

"You pity me?!" she demanded, unafraid to show how much the revelation angered her.

Ralof shook his head, "No! You misunderstand!" He wanted to explain further, but no words made it past his lips.

The anger magnified until she started to despise him, and it showed on her face. Now that she knew how he thought of her she felt the comfort she drew from him shatter, and instead it left a black unending well of betrayal. She thought she showed him how much stronger she became since they had met, but it turned out that he would always see the broken side of her. She cursed her own stupidity for even caring about what he thought of her. She had accepted her past but decided not to be crippled by it, the death of her parents still pained her but it also gave her strength to continue.

Ralof opened his mouth to speak, but she raised her hand and he shut his mouth close in an instant, as though she'd hit him. "I understand perfectly well," she stated, pinning him down with her glare. "You of all people in Skyrim should know me, that I evolved regardless of my past, but it seems all you do is pity me."

"I never pitied you, Minerva. I always admired you and your strength, you know that," he tried to reassure her, but there was nothing he could say that could mend the hurt he caused.

She couldn't look at him anymore. Right now, she wanted to be far away from him and bury whatever feelings she thought she developed for him.

"Safe journey, Ralof," she dismissed, giving him one departing glance before she turned away. She could feel his eyes on her back as she made her way to the Sleeping Giant Inn, partially expecting him to come after her. When the door to the inn closed behind her, however, she knew he wouldn't follow, and she was partially happy for that. She couldn't stand his presence any longer, she needed to be away from him and hopefully she wouldn't see him for a very long time.

She headed for the secret room and found Delphine already making preparations for the next mission. Minerva needed to gather her entire focus if she wanted everything to go smoothly. She would have the time to think of her pain, later.


	14. Dossier

More than a week passed since she'd last been to Windhelm, but now that Delphine didn't require her aid at the moment she decided to return to the palace, with the newly discovered dossier she'd found in the Thalmor Embassy. She'd managed to infiltrate the embassy without getting caught. The fear of getting recognized by the Thalmor had been constantly nagging at her throughout the mission, but the disguise Delphine had given her had been enough to delude them. She'd found a few interesting things in the Embassy, but the dossier about the Jarl of Windhelm troubled her, even now. She hadn't had the chance to read it thoroughly but she threw her eyes on a few paragraphs in the dossier and could tell the Thalmor were spying on him, with success.

The two moons accompanied her throughout the journey to the palace of the Kings, it was well past midnight when she arrived in the city. She nudged the palace gate open and immediately noticed the empty throne room with no sight of Jorleif. The candles had died long ago and there was no light coming from the war room, either. She would have to wait until morning and since she had nothing to do, she headed for the war room then took the stairs that would lead to her residence. The door to her room opened silently, Jorleif had probably oiled the door hinges, and she noticed the bouquet of flowers on the desk, their color almost glowing in the darkness. 

She closed the door and removed each piece of her armor, taking her time with it before she went to the wardrobe in nothing but her undergarments. She picked a jade nightgown and pulled it over her head before she finally threw herself on the bed. With her arms spread wide, Minerva realized it was the most comfortable bed she'd ever lied on. She barely managed to drag herself up and place her head on the pillow before she fell in a deep slumber.

Hours later, as Minerva urgently fought the blinding daylight, the door to her room opened. Minerva sat up and was as surprised as the woman who was standing by the door with a huge bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Oh,” she said surprised, but a moment later she bowed her head, “I'm sorry, I had no idea you were here, my lady.”

“What are you doing?” Minerva wondered as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Once her vision cleared, she watched the woman head to the vase at the desk before she threw the old flowers into a bucket she brought with her.

Her attention was on placing the fresh flowers in the vase as she explained, “I'm placing new flowers in the vase every three days. The Jarl ordered so.”

Minerva stood up and stretched her arms above her head, the bones in her shoulders cracking with the action. The woman headed to the fireplace, bucket filled with old flowers in hand, kneeling on one knee to place the flowers into the ash. Even though Minerva had no idea what was going on or who the woman was, she headed to the fireplace and knelt next to the woman, summoning her fire magic at the tip of her finger.

“There is no need to,” she informed and could feel the woman watching her curiously. Minerva shot a small fire ball into the hearth and just like that the fire was burning again.

“Ah, a little magic comes in handy after all,” said the woman.

Minerva smiled as she looked at the woman's profile; her strong facial features immediately revealed she was a Nord. Her dark brown hair had been tied back with several braids going from her forehead. Her eyes were a dark brown shade and her thin lips a pale red color.

“What's your name?” asked Minerva as they stood up, the woman towering above her for half a head.

The woman bowed, “I'm Nora, my lady. The Jarl assigned me to keep your room tidy and your belongings clean.”

Minerva furrowed her brows at the revelation and couldn't help but wonder why. The fact he was helping her that easily made her wary of him. Although still grateful for his help, she needed to understand why he was helping her at all.

“Why would he do so?” she asked as Nora threw wood into the fire.

Minerva shot another fire ball into the hearth, to strengthen the fire as Nora stood in front of her, looking at the flames as she admitted, “I don't know, but it’s the least I can do to help.” Grinning, Nora averted her attention to her and admitted, “I can't wield a sword, but I can help the Dragonborn wield a shiny sword.”

Minerva couldn't help but laugh lightly, her shoulders moved with it as she admitted, “I like your attitude, Nora,” as the Nord took the bucket.

“I know, I have a shiny attitude,” she remarked, to which Minerva snorted. Nora cleared her throat but the smile remained on her face when she inquired, "Can I get you anything?”

Minerva waved her off, “I'm fine. I'll be heading out soon anyway.”

Nora bowed her head, “I'll be in the palace halls if you need anything,” she informed before she left the room, gently closing the door behind her. Minerva felt comfortable around her presence even though she barely knew the woman, but the fact she was assigned to be her maid left her with more questions than answers. It felt wrong, to have someone clean after her and she would make sure to give voice to her discomfort once she got the chance.

She walked to the vanity and splashed the cold water on her face, effectively banishing all sleep that threatened to pull her back into the bed. Minerva sighed in content as she combed her waist long black hair, and couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so peacefully. She combed back half of her hair and secured it with a ribbon, letting the rest of it fall over her shoulders. Satisfied with the look of it she then walked to the wardrobe and decided to put on her glass armor. The armor shone brighter than she ever remembered and she made a mental note to thank Nora for it.

With her sword in place and dagger on her waist, she picked up the dossier and made her way out towards the war room. Her steps were fast and her chin high, she was set with purpose as she crossed the final steps to the war room only to find it empty. Voices from the great hall caught her ears and she followed their direction. Once she passed the archway she found the Jarl sitting on the throne, with Jorleif moving his hands while he explained something.

She managed to get closer and could slowly make out what they were talking about.

“… still not able to catch him. That was the third maiden he killed.”

The Jarl had his face hidden in his hand as he was comfortably leaned against the back of the throne, elbow leaned on the armrest, but the aura he radiated meant nothing good had happened and she became wary. The two hadn't caught her as she slowly approached them and she hoped to hear more before she would announce her presence.

Jorleif continued, “We need someone to investigate, the guards are too busy with the war and with protecting the city!” When she came within range Jorleif's eyes were drawn to her. The surprise widened his features and was evident in his voice when he greeted her, "Oh, I had no idea you were here, my lady! Welcome!"

The Jarl tore his hand from his face and shot his attention at her as though he knew where she was. Minerva ran her eyes quickly over his features, the worry was etched into his hard gaze and his features were tight. Whatever he and Jorleif had discussed earlier troubled him greatly, and she barely suppressed the need to ask directly what had happened.

She bowed her head to the Jarl. Somehow, she felt the need to apologize for interrupting them, “My Jarl, I apologize I came here unannounced.”

He propped his face with his fist as he gave her an annoyed look, reminding her, “You own a room at the palace. You're free to use it without my notice,” his voice reflecting his irritation over her statement.

_ What a shiny attitude,  _ she thought sarcastically and ground her teeth, to suppress her need to voice her thoughts. His foul mood would darken her own quickly if she wasn't careful, but she reminded herself she was here for a reason. She cleared her throat, wondering, “Could we have a word, my Jarl?” and watched in delight as her request was met with his caution.

He exhaled deeply and stood from the throne without tearing his now cautious gaze from her. He descended the stairs but before he approached her, he turned to Jorleif, promising, “I will personally look into this matter. This cannot go any further,” to which Jorleif nodded.

Their height difference was something which would never seize to amaze her as he approached. The top of her head reached his chin and if she stood on her toes she could probably touch his nose with her forehead. She shook her head slightly at the stupid thoughts manifesting as she followed him, wondering why on Nirn she would even entertain such thoughts. However, if she was honest, they amused her a little. She watched his back as they passed the archway, and slowly she came to a stop as he rounded the war table. He placed both his hands flat against the surface and fixed his gaze on her. Watching her like this made her at unease, but she refrained as best she could from showing it.

“Let's hear it then, Dragonborn.” His voice was loud when he spoke, authoritative.

Minerva inhaled deeply as she met his gaze bravely. Without voicing a word she approached him with the dossier in hand before she gently placed it on the war table in front of him. He eyed the dossier suspiciously, then inspected her with the same measure of caution as if demanding an explanation. It took a few heartbeats before he moved, taking the dossier and standing straight. He opened the dossier and let his eyes wander over the pages, and the more he read the more his face paled in cold realization.

The silence in the room was deafening, she barely breathed as she nervously watched him for any reaction. The fury with which he turned the pages intensified the more he read, she could tell he was seconds from shredding the book to pieces and was partially surprised when he shut it angrily, instead. Now she felt stupid for not taking the time to read the dossier thoroughly; his reaction made her curious about its content.

When she noticed his tight face, flaring nostrils and working jaw, she knew the contents were dire.

"Where did you find this?!" he demanded, eyes wide with terror, she could feel his suppressed rage threatening to burst.

She remained as calm as she could as she explained, unveiling him only part of the truth, “My associates suspected the Thalmor were behind the arrival of dragons, and the only way to find out was to infiltrate their Embassy.” She paused for a moment and watched with caution how his face darkened because of the revelation, “While I was searching for any evidence on that matter, I found the dossier and a few other documents.”

“What documents?!” he asked harshly, startling her a bit.

His mood changed drastically from mere moments ago. The way he looked made her hand twitch for the sword secured to her waist, but she kept telling herself she wasn't in danger of him. Still, seeing him almost in a frenzy like this made her cautious. Her heart started beating in every direction, the courage with which she'd faced him earlier shredded to pieces. Now she partly understood why some people were afraid of him.

She was unsure whether to tell him what exactly she'd read in the few documents she'd found, but she feared he would see through her lie. Steeling her nerves, she decided to bluntly tell him the truth and was prepared for whatever would follow.

“The documents described your time in their imprisonment,” she admitted sheepishly and closely watched his face for his reaction.

The Thalmor described his torture in detail. She remembered the things she'd read with distress and a chill passed down her spine at how similarly they had been treated. She already knew they were ruthless, but there were things described in the documents she would never be able to forget. 

The Jarl was working his jaw as he watched her, his eyes burning through her as though he could look right into her soul. He was mad, that much she could tell but there was a hint of fear in his eyes too. Minerva could more than understand that fear; every time she faced an Altmer there was a mixture of rage and fear racing through her body. The same mixture of feelings she could now clearly see whirling in his eyes.

Lowering her gaze, she felt the need to apologize to him, to clarify why she couldn't have taken the documents with her. “I couldn't carry the documents out of the Embassy, I had nowhere to put them. I apologize."

He sighed and just like that the tension left the room, and she found the courage to look at him again. He placed the dossier on the desk before he crossed his arms, his face as expressionless as it usually was. Every trace of anger vanished and she admired his self-control.

“It's good you decided to take the dossier,” he stated calmly, “They would have probably waited for me to become High King before they would bring the dossier out in the open.”

Minerva wanted to ask what exactly he meant with it, but the Jarl continued after he took a deep breath, “What's more important now is that we have to eradicate their spies in Windhelm, and everywhere around Skyrim. There are probably spies in our camps, too.”

She couldn't agree more, “Whatever they are planning they don't have much time to set their plan in motion. The dossier clearly states they don't want a Stormcloak victory.”

“So you've read the dossier, then?”

She blinked twice, caught off guard with his question. It wasn't in her interest to reveal she'd read parts of the dossier, but it hurried out of her mouth before she could think it through. The weight of his stare almost rendered her speechless.

“I've… looked through the pages swiftly and only caught a glimpse of what it said,” she admitted, feeling as though he'd caught her stealing. He nodded slowly but other than that he gave no reaction; no anger or irritation, nothing. It was worse than facing his anger.

The more he watched her, the more she felt the nervousness threatening to claim her. She was already feeling hot under her armor as her features paled and cold sweat started forming on her forehead. She had to change the subject, otherwise she would break under the pressure induced by the weight of his stare.

“If I may ask,” she started softly, carefully watching his reaction, but there was none and she swallowed, “What was it you were discussing with your steward earlier?”

His expression tensed and a dark cloud of worry loomed over him. Thankfully, his stare wasn't as smothering anymore. “There is a murderer in Windhelm," he admitted gravely. "He's killed three women until now and I'm afraid he will kill more if we don't stop him."

Her next task was settled then. "This cannot happen. With your approval, I will look into this matter."

"You are free to try, Dragonborn," he stated, his face softening a little.

Minerva bowed her head and left, determined to do just that. Delphine needed time to study the information she'd gathered which meant she had a bit of free time on her hands. Hopefully, she would solve the mystery quickly.

####

_ Two days later… _

The stench of rotten flesh and blood still resided in her nose. The scene she'd found in Hjerim would haunt her for the next several days, surely; necromancy was brutal and anyone engaging it couldn't be considered sane, she decided. Calixto had mutilated several bodies in hope to revive his dead sister, and thankfully she had stopped him before he managed to kill another woman.

She walked further into the great hall and found the Jarl sitting on the throne, discussing something with Jorleif before he spotted her.

"Dragonborn. What news do you bring?" the Jarl asked.

Minerva stood tall with both her hands on her back, raising her chin as she declared, "The butcher will not trouble your citizens any longer. Calixto Corrium was behind the murders."

"And do you have proof of your accusations?" he asked again, intrigued by her revelation.

She nodded, "Aye, I stopped him just as he was about to kill Arivanya in the market. I also found his journal. He wanted to bring his dead sister back."

Jarl Ulfric's face tensed at the revelation. “Necromancy,” he summarised cautiously, looking and sounding grave as he inhaled deeply. His reaction didn't surprise her because Minerva had learned about the dangers of necromancy. She could also understand his alertness because someone had deliberately tried to practice the forbidden arts in his city.

The Jarl averted his focus to Jorleif, stating, “Renovate and redecorate the house. We’ll see what we do with it.”

“Of course,” Jorleif bowed his head before he walked away, to do as ordered. Once alone, he averted his attention back to her.

“You've done this city a great service, Dragonborn. I am in your debt, but I'm afraid you can't bask in your achievements yet.” He stood up and walked down the few stairs before he stood right in front of her. “I have word from Galmar, you're needed at our hidden Falkreath camp for our next move. He will have special tasks for you and will need you when we liberate the capital.”

_ Special tasks? _

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She didn't like the sound of that and she shifted slightly, wanting to inquire further but he was faster to elaborate, “You'll be doing whatever Galmar tells you to do and cause as much mayhem as possible for the Empire, and any Jarl who supports them.”

Her eyes narrowed and she ground her teeth. Knowing she would have to work with Galmar again filled her with disgust, but she couldn't simply refuse to follow the Jarl's order. She may be the Dragonborn, but she was no one among the Stormcloaks and their ranks. The fact she couldn't voice her discomfort about it or demand another mission rubbed her the wrong way, but she decided to swallow her disappointment. For now.

"As you wish," she agreed flatly.

They stood like this in silence for a few heartbeats and she didn't know whether she was allowed to leave. She was trying her best to hide her foul mood, but her jaw worked in irritation as her impatience grew. Working with Galmar was the only thing she despised as equally as she did the high elves from the Summerset Isles.

"You should speak your mind," the Jarl spoke suddenly.

His statement took her by surprise, she couldn't decipher what exactly he was getting at, asking, "Sorry?" as she blinked twice.

He didn't waste a second to explain, "Nords tend to speak their mind, even to their leader. You should act like one." He held her gaze as he turned away, then headed back to the throne, leaving a bewildered Minerva behind.

She snapped out of her thoughts as he sat on the throne, and Minerva understood she was being dismissed since he remained silent. She quickly bowed her head and headed for the palace gate, and only when she was outside did she stop to think thoroughly about what he'd said.

Nord blood pumped through her veins but she never considered herself as one because her looks indicated none of it. She always considered herself a Breton, even though her father had been a proud Nord. She never gave it too much thought, but the idea that the Jarl of Windhelm considered her as a Nord, a kinsman, was overwhelming. To consider herself as one made her head spin and she inhaled deeply as she resumed her steps. It made her wonder whether the Stormcloaks would all respect her more if she embraced her heritage.

However, the Jarl's statement also implied he knew she'd been mulling something. It made her wonder if she wasn't as hard to read as she thought to be. Perhaps the Jarl was just good at reading people and he could tell she wasn't too keen on working with Galmar. Even if he suspected the latter, she couldn't simply tell him how irritated she was. Galmar had been loud to declare how much he despised her and although she was irritated by him, she wouldn't stoop to such low methods. She considered herself an adult and she wouldn't argue with him as though they were children fighting over sweetroll. She would hold back as much as she could and hope he would see reason, to discontinue his mockery.

Exhaling deeply, she steeled her nerves and decided to head towards the Falkreath camp, to liberate yet another hold from the Empire.


	15. Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: character death.
> 
> Let me know what you think on this one and if I went too far!
> 
> Regardless, I hope you're enjoying it :-)

Arriving at the Falkreath camp she immediately headed towards the general's tent, pushing the flaps of the tent open. Surprisingly, he'd kept his orders brief and simply told her to head to Ralof for further instructions because he was in charge of this mission. She didn't know if the divines were mocking her on purpose but she wasn't enjoying it the least bit as she angrily made her way towards him.

Knowing she would have to take orders from Ralof made her uncomfortable. She was still hurt because of their last conversation and she was uncertain whether she was ready to see him again. Now that she knew he'd pitied her changed the way she thought of him, it made her blood boil in rage as she stomped her way towards him and the small group of Stormcloaks.

Ralof was the first to spot her, whatever he discussed with the Stormcloaks died on his lips as he refused to look anywhere else. She stopped in front of the small group and crossed her arms, silently regarding him. He was tense and cautious as he hesitated to speak, but after he inhaled deeply, he seemed ready.

"Dragonborn, you arrive," he stated the obvious. "Your skills will be needed."

She didn't have the nerve for smalltalk, not with him, she needed to know the plan how they would advance on the fort. "Just tell me what to do," she bluntly cut him off and his mouth turned down in a scowl.

He motioned with his head to follow him and the two walked closer to the shore, a bit farther from the other's. The waves gently hugged the shore as she silently watched the fort, unable to deny the happiness erupting in her belly. Despite the anger she was happy to see him unharmed and the fluttering belly made her frown deepen.

His voice was calm and collected when he informed, "There are a number of Stormcloaks trapped inside the fort. Our idea is for you to sneak inside and free them, and cause mayhem from the inside out."

It was a brilliant plan Minerva had to admit as she glanced at him for a second, but quickly averted her gaze back to the fort as she noticed he was watching her. Luckily she would enter the fort on her own, without Ralof or the rest of the group in tow.

"Once you reach the courtyard, you'll open the gate and we'll aid you in battle," he added.

The plan was set, she knew everything she needed, there was no need to delay. "Fine," she dismissed as she walked into the water, "See you soon."

"Minerva."

She was about to descend into the water but froze in place and looked at him over her shoulder, the water hugging her knees.

"Take care," he softly stated, his voice and the way he looked at her full with concern pulling at the strings of her heart. Her belly did a pleasant flip.

She didn't even acknowledge him, merely returned her focus to the front as she gently submerged into the water. Once she reached the fort all drenched, she waited a few minutes until she was somewhat dry before she proceeded.

She was as silent as possible as she approached the Imperial guarding the prisoners, and she took out her dagger on the unknowing fool. The death was quick and clean, not what he deserved, but she had no time to prolong his pain.

She looted the key from the fresh corpse and hurried to unlock the cells of the trapped Stormcloaks. One by one they took their armor and weapons until they were all ready to fight. She quickly explained their next course of action before they all headed out, killing every Imperial on their way to the courtyard. The battle had taken only a couple of hours after Ralof and his unit had stormed the courtyard, before the last Imperial fell and they roared in victory.

Her teeth chattered and her body started to shake now that the battle was finally over. She removed a strand of wet, bloody hair from her face as she willed her body to stop shaking, but to no avail. The shirt underneath her armor and trousers were wet, she needed to change into something dry. She probably had a spare shirt and leggings in her backpack somewhere in the camp. She needed to return to it quickly if she didn't want to freeze to death.

"Minerva!"

She cursed inwardly and shakily turned to find Ralof standing before her, breathing heavily. Blood dripped from his chin and was splattered across his face, but even when she looked closely she couldn't determine whether it was his own or from their enemies. He inspected her from head to toe, and his brows furrowed in concern and caution.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Minerva nodded weakly and stated, "Y-y-yes, everything's f-fine." Her teeth chattered badly and she didn't feel her lips as she shook more and more.

Ralof's pursed his lips and removed the fur drapped over his shoulders, then covered her with it. The fur was large enough to cover her from head to toe and she could immediately feel the warmth coming from it. She blushed as he guided them to the nearby bench, then sat her down as he readjusted the fur around her, kneeling on one knee.

"Wait here," he softly ordered, looking at the fur warming her instead of her eyes, "I'll head over to the camp and get you spare clothes."

"R-Ralof."

He was about to leave but froze in place as he expectantly waited for her to speak. It took her a few heartbeats before she admitted, "I h-hate the c-cold."

Her admission pulled his lips up in a warm smile and suddenly she felt as though the world was a better place. The anger and hurt diminished, she was still in pain because of his words, because of the fact he pitied her for what she'd gone through, but she was also happy to be close to him again. She imagined how it would feel like not to see him for a few months and found she would miss him more than she liked to admit.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the roar of a dragon interrupted him. His face froze in horror and Minerva looked up at the sky.

“Dragon!” someone shouted.

It swiftly passed from one end of the fort to another and she caught a glimpse of its orange scale. She didn't need to think twice to know what kind of dragon it was.

She'd witnessed the Revered dragon once from a safe distance, but refrained from attacking it. Revered dragon's were strong and agile, and she doubted she could kill one on her own yet. She pushed the fur from her shoulders and readied her fire magic, Ralof took out the quiver and bow as he shouted orders to the rest of the Stormcloaks.

"Take your bows! Bring it down!" he yelled just as the revered dragon flew towards them. The arrows bounced off of its scales, few hit the dragons wings but it wasn't enough to bring it down.

Few managed to jump into cover as the dragon breathed ice, but some weren't as lucky and the dragons shout turned them to ice. 

"Sound the horn!" Ralof yelled and a Stormcloak hurriedly did so. Minerva knew Galmar would hear it and head with the rest of the Stormcloaks to their location, to help bring the dragon down. She would take over after that.

She threw the fire magic at it once it was close enough, but it didn't seem to damage it, it only served to peel the dragons attention from the other's at her. It flew towards her, confident and ready, and she barely managed to avoid the frost breath it used, freezing a couple more Stormcloaks in the process as she dodged.

The dragon barely showed any signs of pain while it directed its soulless eyes at her, hovering over the fort close enough yet too far away for the arrows to find their mark.

_ “Los bo wah krif zey, Dovahkiin?” _

_ Are you going to fight me, Dragonborn? _

Minerva ground her teeth in irritation as she shot a mightier storm spell at it. The dragon roared, the stormspell strong enough to cripple the beast and hinder its flight for a heartbeat which forced it to land roughly. The ground trembled with the sheer force of its landing and she almost stumbled. The dragon shook its wings but refrained from ascending again.

_ “Sahlag. Zu'u fent krii sahrot Dovahkiin!” _

_ Pitiful. I shall kill the mighty Dragonborn! _

The dragon used its ice breath and she summoned a strong ward to block the beasts power. To make things worse, it came closer without interrupting its shout and with each step towards her she felt the increasing power colliding with the ward. Her arms started to shake, she could barely block the immense power. Someone ran at the dragon from the side, Minerva noticed, and witnessed them bury their weapon into the dragons wing, an ax as she could recognize, causing a deep wound.

The dragon roared in pain and the shout was interrupted which gave her an crucial opening. She conjured a bound sword as she was running towards it, using the chance while the dragon violently flapped its wings and smashed its tail against the ground, hitting few Stormcloaks in the process. Some managed to get close and they all cut their weapons into its scales. 

She was about to jump on its throat then climb up its neck to reach its head, but the dragon recovered sooner than she thought it would and its eyes zeroed in on her. Its movements were fast and there was nothing Minerva could do; it buried its fangs into the left side of her body, her hips and ribs, her hands up in the air holding the weapon and ready to strike. The pain was something she never experienced before. The dragon chewed her between its fangs, she could feel its jaw moving and tearing her muscles and bones apart as it shook its head.

With the adrenaline pumping through her body, she somehow managed to bury the bound sword into its head and the dragon finally spat her out, roaring in pain. After several painful turns she came to a stop facedown and everything around her went numb. Muffled screams and roars disoriented her and she tried to get up, but the pain was crippling. Everything below her waist was numb and she feared to roll on her back to inspect the wounds. She tried to summon her healing magic, but her mind had been drifting on and off into unconsciousness, her body too injured for her mind to focus. 

“MINERVA!”

Somewhere she heard Ralof yell her name and she strained her foggy and bloody vision to see. Ralof managed to plant his axe into the dragons neck, but it only served to earn the dragons wrath. It kicked him and he flew several feet back. The dragon hit the soldier's advancing with its wings, effectively throwing them away several feet.

_ “Ahrk ful faal Dovahkiin lost mahlaan.” _

_ And so the Dragonborn has fallen. _

The injured dragon spoke. Minerva fisted her hand as she felt the life slowly leave her body. The dragon fought off the Stormcloaks, using its shout to freeze them or burn them alive. Her vision darkened, her heartbeat slowing as the sounds around her muffled to the point she couldn't comprehend anything. Barely she could make out the change in the dragon's roar, as though it was feeling immense pain until it subsided, followed by a huge tremor. The last thing she felt was the dragons soul passing through her body, but even the surge of power wasn't enough to bring her back. She embraced Sovngarde.

####

It took Ralof a while until the dizziness subsided completely. His eyes fell on the dragon, with general Stone-Fist on its head, cleaving his ax into its skull. It took seconds until the dragon fell limp before them, its skull torn open and bloody, and its skin started to burn off of its bones. As he expected it, the Dragonborn absorbed its soul but he couldn't see her anywhere. Ralof picked himself up, the hit the dragon landed earlier bruising him entirely, every bone and muscle hurt as he stood on his feet, slowly dragging himself to where the soul went.

He came closer and panic made his heart race as he saw Minerva lying on the ground, unmoving. He hurried as fast as he could, ignoring the pain and his protesting legs, and fell on his knees softly calling her name. She didn't react. He noticed the blood around and under her, noticed her torn armor and horror clenched his gut.

"Minerva," he called again, not wanting to trust his own eyes. Gently he turned her over and noticed her pale and blue lips, touched her cheek and felt her cold skin.

"By the nine…" he whispered. "This can't be true." He removed the hair from her face and a cold realization settled in his gut. She was dead.

“Minerva!” Ralof shook her by her shoulders as Galmar stopped next to him, the ax in his hand dripping with the fresh blood; while the dragon had been occupied with the rest of the Stormcloaks, he managed to climb up the beasts back and cleave its skull open. It had been pure luck for the dragon to be that occupied not to have noticed him, he knew so, but it came with a huge price.

Galmar, filled with grief, placed a hand on Ralof's shoulder. There was no use, the Dragonborn was dead and no potion in the world could bring her back. Ralof sat back and pulled his knees to his chest, gnawing his lower lip between his teeth until he tasted blood. Nothing hurt him more than the fact he didn't apologize for his stupid words, and the grim truth was he would never be able to do so.

“By the gods, we're doomed," Ralof spoke to himself. He'd lost Minerva and that caused a wound which would never heal again, but they had also lost the Dragonborn. The only chance of slaying Alduin now died in front of their eyes and there was nothing or no one that could kill the World-Eater.

Galmar looked around the camp, the survivors helped the injured and poured healing potions down their throat, healers healed whatever could be treated. Many had died because of the dragon but he would count the dead later. He knew exactly what Ralof was referring to. Dread loomed over him as he tried to come up with a viable solution, one that could undo the Dragonborn's current state which would also give them a chance for survival. Frantically he looked around and his eyes rested on the dragons bones.

Were the situation different and the Dragonborn still alive, he would have bragged about killing a dragon in front of the Dragonborn until his end days. But his pride was shadowed by a grim situation; one he needed to find a solution for because he didn't dare face Ulfric's wrath. He knew Ulfric respected the Dragonborn greatly even though Galmar thought little of her, but Ulfric's respect for her was deeply seeded by his deceased father. Ulfric had listened stories about the Dragonborn in awe when he'd been a child and it was one of the reasons he thought highly of her and her destiny. Her death would surely shock him, Galmar had no doubt of it, but even more shocking was the imminent threat of the World-Eater.

There had to be a way to bring her back. Galmar instantly thought of necromancy and the fool Corrium who'd practiced the forbidden arts. He knew Ulfric would skin him alive for suggesting such a rigorous thing but Galmar had an idea, and once he'd set his mind to something no one could stop him, not even Ulfric. The College of Winterhold probably practiced the forbidden arts behind the curtains and since the Dragonborn wielded magic, he wondered whether she'd gone to the College. Even if that weren't the case, perhaps there was someone who could help them.

"Ralof,” he called, and even though Ralof didn't look up he knew he had his attention, “Do you think the Dragonborn had any relations to the College of Winterhold?"

Something clicked in his mind and he cursed his own stupidity. He'd been too trapped in his grief to think and he slowly stood up to face general Stone-Fist. “Yes, she did. She's also told me of a master restoration mage in the College." He watched the general think, his brows furrowed and face tight, and cautiously he asked, "Do you think they could… bring her back?"

Galmar exhaled sharply, "We have to use every option, even if it involves necromancy. She's the Dragonborn, no one can kill the World-Eater but her. I will gather a group of Stormcloaks. We'll take her to Windhelm. You should head to the College."

“Aye!"

Galmar nodded and gave his shoulder a strong pat, dismissing Ralof with a sharp, “Godspeed, Ralof. Talos guide you.”

Ralof nodded and whistled as hard as he could and seconds later a steed trotted to him. Galmar called for a few Stormcloaks and they all gently lifted her onto a wooden board, before securing her with cloths and ropes. Ralof gave her a quick, worried once over before he yanked the reign, hope rising in his chest that the mages at the college could work wonders.

####

_ Few hours later... _

“Open the gates!” Galmar yelled at the nearby Stormcloaks who were guarding the entrance to the Palace of the Kings. They hurried and did as their general commanded, confusingly eying the person transported on the board but not daring to ask anything. They carried her gently through the door as Galmar entered first, spotting Ulfric sitting on the throne seemingly occupied with a group of people. When Ulfric's eyes landed on him then on the board, then back on him, Galmar felt as though he would vomit.

The Stormcloaks carried Minerva to the left, up to Wuunferth's residence, even though the old mage probably couldn't help Galmar guessed she would be safest there until Ralof arrived, hopefully with the College mages. Ulfric was already up on his feet, stalking down the stairs. Galmar leaned both his hands on the pommel of the sword secured to his belt and stood as tall as he could, towering an inch or so over the soon-to-be High King.

“What's going on?” Ulfric asked, sounding and looking alert.

Galmar steeled his nerves and decided to start at the beginning, “We captured Fort Neugrad without any loss. The Imperials didn't expect our attack and they were dead before they even knew what happened.” He exhaled deeply as he continued, “But then a dragon swooped down on us and we had no time react; it killed a dozen of our soldiers, at least. It was strong, even the Dragonborn had her trouble fighting it.”

“Who's on that board, Galmar?!” The Jarl's voice grew impatient, his nostrils flared and there was madness swirling in his eyes. Galmar knew he suspected who was on it, but still wanted to hear it loud and clear.

There was no point in delaying the truth to him. “The Dragonborn didn't see the dragon move and the beast managed to bury its fangs into her. She's dead, Ulfric.”

Ulfric stormed past Galmar towards the stairs, with Galmar quickly following. When they arrived they found Minerva already transfered from the wooden board to the bed with the Stormcloaks gathered around, both Ulfric and Galmar stopped near the foot of the bed. Looking at the dead Dragonborn filled him with dread, but he couldn't understand why the gods chose such a fragile, cowardly woman to be Dragonborn.

Galmar always expected the legendary warrior to be a pure blooded Nord, a strong man or woman who would die in battle with a smile on their faces, who would courageously face the World-Eater. He considered her a coward because she'd avoided her destiny instead of embracing it. She'd ran from her fears instead of battling them head on. She irritated him beyond explanation, there were so many times he'd wanted to bury his ax into her skull, but she was still Dragonborn and without her Alduin would destroy the world. The fact they all depended on her made him almost tear his hair out in frustration.

There was no telling when Ralof might return and whether the mages from the College would willingly help them. Even if they did arrive with Ralof, he doubted there was anything to be done. Death was an irreversible state and unless the master mage wielded necromancy, he couldn't believe anything could bring the Dragonborn back.

“Leave,” Ulfric ordered, and slowly one by one of the Stormcloaks left until it was only Galmar and him left. The Jarl turned to face him then, and Galmar knew his long time friend was lost. But he wasn't the only one.

“She had a greater destiny than this,” Ulfric sighed as he ran a hand down his face.

Silence settled in after the statement. There was nothing each of them could say what the other didn't know already. The Dragonborn was dead, the World-Eater on their tails, it was only a matter of time until the dragon would start destroying their world. Everyone would die, but somehow Galmar couldn't quite accept the scenario. Not until the Ralof arrived.

“There's still hope,” Galmar spoke into the room as he looked at the Dragonborn. Such a small woman carried the fate of men on her shoulders. He inhaled, adding, “Ralof went to the College of Winterhold to ask for help.”

“And what will the mages do?!” Ulfric inquired harshly as though Galmar said the most hideous thing, but that didn't surprise him. “I won't let them use Necromancy in my Palace!” he declared confidently.

“But if it is the only way…” Galmar silenced at the sharp look he received from the Jarl, but decided to continue nonetheless, “You've seen Alduin yourself, Ulfric. With the Dragonborn dead, there is no one to stop him. If necromancy is to bring her back, who are we to doom the world by refusing it?”

Ulfric heaved a sigh and Galmar knew he was starting to talk some sense into him. He wasn't fond of necromancy either, but if it was the only option then Galmar would surely take it. There was too much at stake.

“Over here!”

Jorleif appeared in the room with Ralof in tow, followed by three mages. A woman was followed by two younger mages, a Nord and a Dunmer, and they all stopped close to the bed. Jorleif returned to the palace hall as the three mages gathered around the bed.

Ralof, out of breath, looked at Jarl Ulfric and explained, "This is the master restoration mage, Colette, from the College of Winterhold. These two are her students. They assured they could help."

Colette was already examining Minerva and barely lifted her attention to the Jarl, greeting him with a half polite, "Hello," before averting her attention back to Minerva. The more she inspected the Arch-Mage, the more Colette's brows furrowed.

“Oh Minerva, what have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered worriedly.

Onmund looked over Colette's shoulder at Minerva's dead body, dread filling his gut as he wondered softly, "Is there anything at all that we can do?"

The question provoked a snort from the master mage, "You will be surprised just how powerful the restoration school is. This is a once in a lifetime chance to witness the mastery of restoration magic, so gather around!" Colette enthusiastically stated.

Colette cleared her throat and faced both her students, "Now you both know that to heal something we need to feel it directly, with no obstacle between our healing magic and the wound, yes? So we need to remove as much armor as possible to be able to see what we heal. Brelyna and Onmund, would you be so kind?"

The two younger mages slowly started to remove pieces of Minerva's armor, both tentatively pulling the pieces of cloth and leather apart to reveal more of her wounded torso. Only then did Ralof realize how much damage the dragon did with its fangs and he swallowed nervously.

Colette was rather displeased with the rest of them in the room curiously watching whatever was happening, and couldn't help but comment, "What a lovely audience." The comment provoked Galmar and he made sure to shut the mages mouth.

"Mages with forbidden magic cannot be trusted! We need to be ready to intervene in case the spell doesn't work!"

Colette faced Galmar with a lazy smile on her face as she placed both hand on her hips. She was happy to prove him wrong, "I am very sorry to disappoint you, but no necromancy will be used. I do not practice the forbidden arts, nor do my students. There is a wonderful spell that works without gathering the limbs of corpses. Remember that, general. Not every mage is a necromancer."

"Still, the situation is delicate," Ulfric inserted, pulling Colette's attention to him, "We need to oversee it."

Colette raised her hands in defeat. "Be my guest, I don't have anything to hide," she stated and turned back to find the majority of the wounds clear of the armor.

Colette rolled up her sleeves and summoned her magic, explaining, "Now we try to heal every wound, both internal and external."

The older mage moved her hands over the Dragonborn’s body, glowing in a dim warm light, her eyes closed. She focused on healing every injury as she moved her hands closer towards her stomach. The mages brows furrowed as she increased the magic. “This is bad,” she muttered. She lifted her one hand towards the two mages as she demanded, “Give me a magic potion.”

Onmund drew a potion from his belt and handed it to her, and she emptied it with one huge gulp. The light from her hands increased as she used a stronger healing spell. It felt like forever before she moved on, healing every bit of torn flesh and broken bones on her way.

The blood remained the only proof of what had transpired, her skin was healed but there was no sing she was alive. Ralof's brows furrowed and asked for an explanation.

"Did the spell work?" Ralof wondered.

Colette wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and averted her focus at him, willingly explaining, "This was only the start. I need to heal her first before I can cast the spell."

Colette inspected the Arch-Mage carefully, making sure every little injury was taken care of before she nodded, satisfied with her work. "Alright," she exhaled, looking at both her students who were standing on the other side of the bed. "You have to make sure every injury is healed, otherwise there might be complications with the spell and the healing process afterwards. The spell I am going to use is called 'Bestow life' and it is a very dangerous spell. It can bring someone who's died back to life, but it needs to be used with caution. 

"Only mages with a extensive amount of magic power can use it, otherwise the spell will drain your life energy instead, and become a threat to you. Never, and I repeat,  **never,** use the spell if you're not one hundred percent certain you can withstand it."

She took the nearby chair and sat next to the bed, placing one hand above Minerva's heart and one over her forehead and eyes. “The books of old say it takes two days for the soul to leave the body. How long is she dead?”

The question was directed at no one in particular, but it was Galmar who answered, “Little less than a day.”

Colette nodded that she understood before she spoke, “It is important to use the spell in the first two days of death, otherwise the soul has already departed. It will have no effect. Now, please silence all of you. I need to concentrate." She closed her eyes and leaned her head slightly back, her mouth moving as she muttered intangible things. The light from her hands grew brighter and brighter until they were forced to shield their eyes from the blinding flash erupting from the mages hands.

Distorted noises filled the room around them, as if the magic was twisting time and space around it. It lasted for a few seconds then it subsided completely, along with the blinding light. Everyone waited with their breath held for anything to happen, but the Dragonborn remained still on the bed.

"Did the spell work?" Onmund nervously asked.

No answer came from Colette. He noticed something was off and walked around the bed to stand next to her. Onmund noticed her hung head and limp posture and hurried to her just as she was unable to sit upright anymore. She threatened to fall from the chair but Onmund caught her. Brelyna was next to them in a second.

Thankfully, the master mage opened her eyes and seemed to react to her surroundings. They sat her up and helped her sit, none of them leaving her side.

"Are you alright?" Brelyna asked.

Colette nodded, looking drained and very tired, "I told you it is a dangerous spell. But it worked."

"Is she alive?!" Ralof asked, too eager to hear of the outcome.

Colette sighed and stood on her feet, then went back to the bed to take Minerva's hand. Her thumb pressed against her pulse point, her face drawn tight, until a smile erupted on her face. "See for yourself," Colette stated, holding Minerva's hand out to Ralof.

Ralof approached and gently took her now warm hand into his, holding his breath as he searched for the pulse. Relief washed over him as he felt the steady beat under his thumb.

He looked at both Galmar and Ulfric, declaring, "She's alive!"

Galmar was at a loss of words, same as Ulfric. He wasn't entirely sure what exactly happened but according to them the Dragonborn was alive, without the use of necromancy. The realization washed a heavy weight from his shoulders and he exhaled deeply.

Ralof was beyond happy as he gently placed back her hand on the bed, knowing she would be alive and well was everything he needed to hear. He wanted to kiss her and whisper sweet promises into her ear until she woke up, and barely resisted the urge to lean down and place a small kiss to her forehead.

Colette appeared next to him and Ralof stepped away, to grant the mage enough space. Colette carefully looked over Minerva as she explained, “Her body has recovered from the wounds, her heart beats and her organs are working properly, but her mind must process it. This can take a day, a week, or even a month. Now it's up to her and how strong she is that will determine how long she'll take to recover.”

That didn't sit quite well with Ralof, but there was nothing he could do. His hands were bound and the only thing he could do was sit and wait until she awoke. He ran a hand down his face, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of her stomach.

“We’ll need a few buckets of fresh, warm water so we can clean her," Colette asked, her attention on the Jarl of Windhelm, "We don't know how long she will take to wake up.”

"It will be arranged," Ulfric promised and ordered a guard to tell Jorleif. He turned to Colette, "If there is anything further you need, talk to my steward."

"Thank you," Colette thanked.

The men left the room and returned to the great hall, Onmund stayed behind in case they needed his help. Once they stopped by the table in the hall, they all turned to Jarl Ulfric.

“What's our next move?” asked Galmar, “Our people are ready to take the Reach. Just give the word.”

Ulfric ran a hand down his face as he exhaled deeply, leaning both hands on his waist. “Hold our position in Falkreath for the moment, give them time to regroup. How many have we lost to the dragon attack?"

"Too many," Galmar stated gravely, to which Ulfric sighed. "I'll head to Falkreath and make preparations, hold our position there. Ralof, you'll return with me, yes?"

Ralof wanted nothing more but to reject and stay in Windhelm, to witness Minerva's awakening, but these were times of war and winning against the Empire took priority. So he heavy heartedly nodded to Galmar's unspoken order. They both received a blessing from the Jarl before they left. Once they stepped out into the harsh weather, Ralof looked up at the sky and felt snowflakes melt on his skin, his thoughts drifting back to Minerva. The hardest was to leave behind the person he cared for and wonder whether he would ever see her again. He couldn't know what the divines had in store for him, what cruel or joyous fate he would face. What he knew for certain was how she made his heart race and he would make sure to tell her once she woke up.

Galmar cleared his throat and Ralof took a deep breath, to steady his nerves. He walked with Galmar to the gates before they took the horses, galloping off towards Falkreath. He prayed to every divine to watch over her even though he knew she was safe within the palace walls.


	16. Returning Strength

Minerva blinked her eyes open and the first thing she spotted was the vase on the nightstand. She couldn't see the rest of the room and decided to sit, though the effort pulled painfully at her muscles and bones. As she sat on the bed, she slowly started to recognize her surroundings, and found she was in her room at the palace in Windhelm. She squinted to adjust her vision to the dim light and quickly realized she was alone.

Slowly she placed her bare feet on the cold stone floor and wiggled her toes. Loose olive trousers hugged her legs, a huge shirt hung down her frame and it almost looked like a small dress. She pulled at the collar to look inside and found no breast band or bandages. Her memory of how she ended up here was missing, she remembered they'd liberated the fort and a dragon had attacked afterwards. What happened beyond that point was a mystery to her.

A flask on the desk near the wall caught her attention and she decided to pour herself a mug of whatever was inside the flask. Hopefully, it was water and not ale.

Standing up was difficult and she barely found enough strength to stand without holding on to the nearby nightstand. Her legs were shaking as she took a step in the direction of her destination. Without holding on to something, there was no way she could reach the desk. Perhaps she could crawl over to it?

Inhaling deeply, she decided to do just that. She swallowed her pride and slowly went on her knees. There was a slight numbness pulsing through her legs which made the crawling not as easy. Her arms did most of the job and it made her wonder why on Nirn she could use them without any effort, but her legs had barely any feeling in them. She was basically dragging her feet as she pulled herself forward using mostly the strength of her arms.

Somehow, she crawled to the desk and climbed up to sit on the chart next to it, groaning with the effort as she used what little strength remained in her hands. She breathed deeply as she sat, eying the flask which was in the middle of the desk. Her throat was sore, all she wished for was a mug of damned water. 

She reached her shaky hand towards it, the flask almost within her grasp. However, her trembling fingers didn't wrap around the handle and instead they threw the flask over.

_ Fucking flask! _

She ground her teeth in irritation as the flask bounced over the floor, the clatter louder than any beastly roar. The entire palace surely heard it.

As she suspected, the door to her room opened not long after and a startled guard entered with his weapon drawn.

"My lady?!" he gasped without moving from the doorframe, his face wide as though he'd seen a ghost.

Minerva swallowed the little moisture gathered in her mouth and smiled weakly as she requested, "Could you bring me a mug of water, please?" her voice and throat sore.

The guard nodded, exclaiming, "Of course! Right away!" and he hurried off to do as she requested.

A few moments of silence passed, leaving her to wonder what had happened after the liberation of the fort. The smile from before faded and her eyes rested on her stretched out legs and her feet, wiggling her toes again to find them reacting normally. So why couldn't she walk properly and why was she in Windhelm? Minerva needed answers.

The guard reappeared close to her and poured the water in the mug. She accepted it from him and took a generous sip, immediately feeling how the freshwater invigorated her.

"Are you well?" the guard asked, accepting the mug from her before refilling it.

Minerva nodded, her voice still sore but better as she watched the water pour from the flask into the mug, "I'm fine, though I feel like a giant hit me with his club and sent me flying."

The guard chuckled as he placed the filled mug and flask on the desk. Facing her, he informed, "I need to inform Jarl Ulfric that you're awake. Wait here."

The guard left and it made her wonder why the Jarl needed to know. Not knowing what had happened drove her mad and she hoped at least Jarl Ulfric would give an explanation.

The Jarl appeared a few moments later without the guard, looking as if he was fighting the sleep with all his might as he hurried to her. He stopped once he was close and took in her form. She noticed the braids near his temple were missing, leaving his hair a ruffled mess. The dark blue shirt he wore made his pale skin almost glow in the barely lit room. He looked different, as though he wasn't his own as he bent over to take the flask from the floor and placed it on the desk.

"You look like you can handle yourself," he commented, his attention moving from the flask at her.

Minerva readjusted in her seat and stretched her neck, feeling the relief wash over her after the bones cracked with the effort. She looked at him, admitting, "I've seen better days, but it would help if I knew how I ended up here. And what is wrong with my legs?"

His brows furrowed to her question, suspicion tightening his features. "You don't feel them?" he inquired, looking and sounding worried.

Minerva explained, "Barely, and I had a hard time walking."

The Jarl crouched before her and took her ankle in his hands. The action surprised her and she blushed as she felt his fingers pressing into her skin through the linens. He moved up to her calf, squeezing the muscle gently before moving to her knee.

"Do you feel that?" he asked, looking genuinely concerned about her.

She nodded, "Yes."

He retrieved his hands and stood before her, looking as clueless as herself. The earlier display made her wonder in what world she woke up to to find Jarl Ulfric so careful and concerned. She shook her head a little.

"What happened?" she inquired and watched as he took another chair to take a seat in front of her.

"Galmar and the rest of you liberated Falkreath," he started. Minerva could remember they'd won, but anything beyond the dragon attack vanished.

"What happened after the dragon attack?"

He looked grave when he admitted bluntly, "You died. The dragon killed you," and it brought more questions than answers.

Her brows furrowed as she looked around, deep in thought, wondering if there was something different in the room. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something different, that something had changed. Perhaps she was truly dead? 

"Am I in Sovngarde?" she wondered carefully, looking at the Jarl. But if she was in Sovngarde then that meant he was dead as well.

Her question pulled a chuckle out of him as a lazy smile stretched his lips. "No, this isn't Sovngarde," he inserted, the amusement loud in his voice.

She couldn't believe him wholeheartedly and wanted to ask more but the door opened. The guard from before stepped in, followed by a person Minerva couldn't really believe to be here.

"Here is the mage," the guard announced and the Jarl freed the chair in front of her. 

Said mage took his place and smiled, and Minerva was even more confused.

"It's good to have you back, Arch-Mage."

"I'm surprised to see you here, Colette," Minerva admitted, the confusion ringing loudly in her voice. She briefly glanced at Jarl Ulfric to find him casually leaned against the wall near the window, his arms crossed.

The smirk was loud in Colette’s voice when she spoke, “Well, not everyone is capable enough to make sure you don’t die. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but I’ve been worse. Although I don’t remember anything beyond the battle,” she admitted.

Colette clicked her tongue, her features tightening, "Yes, you were in a pretty bad shape when I got here."

"How is it I am still alive, then?" Minerva wondered with her brows raised.

Colette seemed offended by the question and leaned forward, the irritation loud in her voice when she reminded, "There is a restoration spell that can bring you back to life. Haven't you paid any attention to my lessons?!"

Minerva remembered Colette telling them the basics of the spell, but she'd refrained to teach them thoroughly. She would have to learn it.

"Of course," Minerva admitted with a smile, but it did nothing to lift Colette’s mood..

Colette was talking and mumbling as she crouched in front of her and inspected Minerva's legs, asking questions of her well-being and strength which Minerva answered short and simple.

After a moment the mage stood and nodded with a satisfied grin on her face, the earlier irritation gone. "You'll be able to walk in no time. Make a few careful steps and you'll be just fine."

Minerva nodded to that and decided to ask for her friends at the College. "How's everybody else?"

Colette waved her hand, "Onmund and Brelyna are teaching the new students what they know and J'zargo is still perfecting his scrolls. Tolfdir is fine, always misplacing his alembic and asking the students to find it. The other's are good. Other than the increasing numbers of new students, there isn't much going on, really."

Thinking about J'zargo and the scroll made her chuckle; she remembered the time she'd used the scroll on a draugr and it had exploded right in her face. It had killed the draugr, but it almost injured her.

"His scroll almost got me killed, you know," Minerva admitted with a smirk.

Colette rolled her eyes and groaned, "I swear he's going to burn himself alive, one day. I just wish he'd stop and move onto something else."

Minerva laughed lightly at that and caught the grin stretching on Colette. As much as she showed her grumpy attitude, Minerva knew the restoration mage couldn't live without them. Colette was like a scolding mother to all of them and it was the reason why they loved her.

"Oh well, since you're in good health, there is no reason for me to stay," informed Colette.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes, I'll head back to the College, tell everyone you're good." Colette looked at Jarl Ulfric, "Thank you for your hospitality."

The Jarl nodded once to that and Colette looked back at Minerva. "Thank you for everything, Colette," she expressed, smiling.

The mage nodded and headed for the door, waving her hand at her. Silence filled the room once she left and Minerva realized only now the fire burned brightly in the hearth. She thought about what Colette had said, about her taking a few careful steps, and wondered whether she needed a little bit of training for her legs to regain their strength.

Without thinking too much she exhaled deeply and stood from the chair, holding onto the edge of the desk tightly. She felt as though she could stand effortlessly but didn't dare take another step yet, not until she was completely certain of her strength.

The Jarl moved from his spot and came to stand next to her, eying her legs. He didn't voice a word and didn't intervene as she decided to take a tentative step along the desk, still using it as leverage, and he followed. Usually she would be unnerved by him by now, but somehow she was grateful to have someone close as she was trying to regain her strength. It gave her a measure of security.

She came to the end of the desk and contemplated whether to continue on her own, to try and see how much strength returned by now. Hesitantly she progressed further and with each successful step she grew bolder and more confident in her strength. Jarl Ulfric was silently following her as she headed towards the door.

There was a carpet at the center of the room and she stumbled on its edge just as she was about to take another step. She recovered immediately, but the Jarl caught her hand and rested his other on her waist to steady her.

It was strange to be so close to him, feeling his hand on hers sent a bolt of nervousness up her arm. She inhaled and exhaled deeply as she concentrated to make another step. However, it became harder to think the more she became aware of him. The more she tried to block him out, the more she noticed he smelled of wood and steel, and how warm he was.

"I'm fine," she assured him, hoping he would let go of her hand. He did remove his hand from her waist but he refrained from letting hers go.

She focused on standing on her own, trying her best to ignore his gentle grip. There was no need for him to hold her anymore, she grew confident in her strength and knew she could stand on her own. Hesitantly she slid her hand out of his, holding her breath as she did so. Thankfully, he said nothing. Standing so close to him felt surreal, she somehow needed to get away from him.

"I have sent a guard for Nora," he spoke suddenly and calmly, "She should arrive shortly."

"May I ask," she started, her eyes lowered to his chest, "Why did you appoint her to keep an eye on my things?" The question rested on her mind since she'd met Nora for the first time and she wished to know the motive behind the idea.

"Are you not happy with her?" the Jarl wondered cautiously and she looked at him.

"No, it's not that," she calmly retorted and found his features relaxing a bit, "I just think I'm not that important to have someone clean after me."

"She doesn't clean after you," he calmly corrected and his gaze softened, "She is there in case you need assistance, to help you with whatever you need help with. Sometimes, it is good to have a helping hand."

She already suspected his intentions were sincere, even if she couldn't wholeheartedly believe it, but now that she heard it she felt bad for questioning his help, or doubting his sincerity.

"I was only wondering, my Jarl. I apologize," she said, somehow unable to break his gaze.

"You apologize for a lot of things," he remarked.

She was aware of how her glossy eyes locked on his, unashamed she took in his complexion as she became too enraptured to move or blink. Suddenly his presence wasn't as smothering as it used to be moments ago, rather it calmed her enough so that she grew comfortable around him. Too comfortable, she admitted as she inhaled deeply and her mind started to spin.

For a second, her mind threatened to slip into unconsciousness and she lost the strength in her legs, but the shock of it was enough to startle her awake. It was a mere second, but it was enough for both of them to react. Her hand flew instinctively to his chest to steady herself, grabbing a handful of his shirt as his hands came to her waist to prevent her fall. It took her a second to realize what happened, where her hand exactly was, and when it did pure embarrassment engulfed her as she stared up at him. She was holding onto him tightly as his fingers dug almost painfully into her waist.

"You need rest," he stated, and she couldn't agree more with him.

She let go of his shirt and he reluctantly withdrew his hands from her waist but didn't move from the spot. Her distant eyes were glued to the wrinkles of his shirt and although she appeared calm there was a storm raging inside of her. She was nervous and edgy, wanted nothing but to get away from him and his suddenly calming warmth.

Luckily, the doors opened and the guard from before stepped inside with Nora in tow. Nora immediately headed to Minerva, looking her over as though she tried to find whether she was hurt.

Minerva didn't look up, didn't dare risk facing the Jarl again; the earlier moment was weird enough, she didn't need to make it any weirder.

"See that the Dragonborn has everything she needs," the Jarl stated and she couldn't help but look at him.

A bolt shot through her heart as she found him looking at her with a dreamy look to his eyes, looking her over quickly before he departed. Her heart thundered until he finally closed the door and once alone with Nora, she calmed a little.

They headed to the vanity, Minerva took in her reflection and found the unpleasant changes in her face. Her cheeks weren't as round as she remembered, her under eyes were dark and it wasn't because of the poorly removed charcoal she'd put on more than a week ago. Her lips were pale and dry, same as the rest of her face and body.

She watched Nora place a kettle above the fireplace before she returned to the vanity, dragging a chair behind her to take a seat. The Nord woman took a comb and gently started to brush her black, wavy hair. Some strands she needed to pull apart with her fingers before she could brush them.

"The mage promised you would recover quickly, once you woke up." Nora admitted, "We've all been on edge waiting for you to open your eyes."

It was hard for her to think of Galmar and Ulfric worried about her well being. The general had probably hoped for her death and Jarl Ulfric didn't seem like a man worried about the lives of his warriors. Now that she thought of it however, it made her wonder how Colette had arrived at the palace in the first place. Someone had to have gotten to the College and asked for the restoration mage specifically, someone who knew Minerva had been at the College. 

Perhaps Nora knew. "Do you know who brought the mage here?" she asked.

Nora furrowed her brows as she searched her memory. She exhaled deeply, her attention on Minerva's hair as she combed it. "It was a man, a rather handsome one. His name… divines, I can't remember it. Was it Rolf? Rolaf?"

"Ralof?" Minerva wondered with her brows furrowed, looking at Nora's reflection in the mirror.

Nora clicked her tongue, her face softening, "Ah, yes! Ralof! I saw him leading the mage to you once they had arrived."

She didn't know how to feel about the revelation. Seeing him back at the Falkreath camp made her happier than she liked to admit, but the thing's he'd said still hovered above her head like a black, rainy cloud. If the dragon hadn't arrived when it did they would probably be on better terms now. Also, the fact she hadn't allowed him to explain what exactly he'd meant rested heavily on her soul. She lashed out on him without giving him the chance to speak. Perhaps he needed to forgive her instead the other way around?

However, knowing he'd been responsible for bringing Colette to the palace made her uncomfortable. It was thanks to his effort she was still alive, yet she felt as though she didn't deserve his help.

Nora checked on the water in the kettle and found it warm enough to pour it into the basin near the vanity. She took a clean cloth and drenched it with water as Minerva removed her shirt. Nora was gentle as she ran the wet cloth over her back and underarms, and Minerva took another to clean her chest and stomach. She also used the cloth to clean her face of the charcoal.

Nora retrieved a fresh pair of clothes and helped her change into the leather grieves and leather vest. Once she was dressed, she helped her braid her hair from the top.

“You have very beautiful hair, my lady,” Nora admired.

Nora hadn't been the first to admire her hair, Minerva inhaled deeply as she thought of the past, a strange melancholy twisting her gut uncomfortably. There had been a time she hated her hair because many Altmer women had expressed their admiration for it. Many times she wished to cut it, but somehow never came to do so. It was as though something had prevented her from doing so and after all the years she became used to it. She considered it a part of her, of who she was, and without it she felt as though she wouldn't be her own.

Thinking about it made her gloomy and instead she focused on Nora's gentle fingers threading her hair into a braid.

Nora didn't react to it and a comfortable silence fell between them. In the mirror she could see the flowers in the vase almost glowing in the barely lit room. They were freshly cut, same as always. She decided to find out where the Nord woman retrieved the flowers.

"You always find such beautiful flowers," she commented.

The Nord woman seemed eager to elaborate as her lips stretched into a smile, "I'm glad you like them. I'm not gathering them myself, though. I buy them from a girl."

"A girl is selling flowers?" Minerva couldn't help but wonder.

"Aye, she's gathering them just out of the snowy terrain of Eastmarch. Then returns and sells them near the harbor, mostly every day."

"Why would she do that?"

Nora sighed, "I don't know, but I think she's homeless. Her clothes look tattered and dirty, as though no one takes the time to clean it."

The revelation made her heart ache but it also gave her an idea.

"Could you bring me to her?" Minerva wondered, watching as Nora tied the braid with a black ribbon.

She hummed, "Sure, I can bring you to her."

Minerva made a sound of agreement and Nora stood up to place wood into the fire, before the two sat in front of the hearth. They didn't speak for a while, Minerva was consumed by the flames devouring the wood and blankly stared at it. Her mind was empty, she couldn't think of anything without having to fear a skull splitting headache so she instead focused on the fire.

A lot had happened and she needed time to regain her strength before she could resume her quest. She wondered about the others, about Lydia and Delphine and Lucia, and decided to write them a letter as soon as she got the chance to.

"May I ask you something?" Nora inquired carefully, and Minerva raised an eyebrow as she looked at her, surprised.

"Of course."

Nora readjusted in her seat, her hands in her lap, she seemed clearly uncomfortable and Minerva wondered why. Surely the question couldn't be that embarrassing?

"I've heard things," she stared carefully, her eyes on Minerva's face searching for any reaction, "That the Thalmor harmed you. Is that true?"

A bolt of uneasiness shot through her and she averted her focus to the flames. As uncomfortable the subject made her, Minerva knew the Nord woman had no cruel intentions. It was pure curiosity, to ask about something as difficult as this, and Minerva inhaled deeply to steel her nerves.

"Yes," she answered, and partly hoped the repartee would end there but also knew it was just the beginning.

"How?" came the simple question. Minerva looked back at her, silently waiting to hear what made her that curious. "I mean I heard they have tortured you, but I haven't seen any scars."

So she'd been looking at her body to find any evidence of her misery. As though she needed a scar to prove her past life wasn't a lie.

Minerva smiled bitterly as she tapped her finger at her temple, grimly stating, "Because the damage is here," indicating that the damage inflicted was mostly to her mind.

From the blank look in Nora's eyes however, she knew the Nord woman couldn't exactly picture what Minerva wanted to state. She decided to give her a slice of the truth.

"The elves didn't use violence as their main source of torture. In fact, I have never received a single beating from them through all the years. But they made me do disgusting things, have used the power of illusion to play with my mind.

"I was a child when I was forced to watch them have intercourse with each other so I could learn to satisfy their needs, so they could live out their fantasies and do whatever disgusting thing came to their mind."

The rage was bubbling. The anger, the hate, the fear, the misery, everything threatened to overflow. It was very hard for her to remain calm and unveil more about what the Thalmor had done to her.

"They've starved me, drowned me, isolated me for days, but they never hurt me physically. And that, my dear Nora, is why I don't have any scars."

Nora looked like she would cry any minute, but held it back with all her might. Minerva held her gaze for a few heartbeats before averting it to the flames, feeling the lump in her throat grow.

With time it became easier to remember these things without turning into a crying mess. It took a lot of willpower and strength to resist the urge to pity herself and cry, but Minerva decided long ago not to be hindered by her past. She wouldn't let the Altmer who'd tortured her define who she was, she would define herself new and make her actions speak for herself.

She could still feel Nora's gaze on her profile, but refrained from looking at her. She needed to calm her heartbeat, first.

"You are a strong woman." Nora's words pulled Minerva's lips into a small smile. "The strongest I know. To live such a life but not to be crushed by it… you have the willpower and strength of a dragon."

Minerva exhaled shakily and looked at Nora, the small smile still present. "I try," she admitted, the smile saddening more and more.

Nora pulled the chair closer to Minerva and faced her, taking Minerva's one hand in both of hers. Her grip was strong yet it didn't hurt as Nora's glossy eyes found Minerva's.

"The divines were with you through everything, they gave you strength and courage. I respect you for what you've survived, as I'm certain everyone else will. Everyone can only hope to have a fraction of the courage and strength you've gathered throughout your bloody journey."

Minerva watched her hand safely held between Nora's and the words lifted the barrage holding back her feelings. The tears and emotions overflowed her and Minerva was pulled into a heartwarming embrace. She cried into Nora's shoulder, silently, feeling as though a thousand bricks were lifted off her shoulders.

Minerva remembered the last time she'd cried on her mother's shoulder, the thought sending another wave of tears cascading down her cheeks. How she wished to see her parents again, to talk to them and see them age together. Everything had been taken from her, her childhood and family and friends. That village had been her entire world until it was burned to ashes, leaving nothing but distant, painful memories.

It felt good to cry on someone's shoulder and not alone in the woods. With each tear she felt as though she gathered new strength.

After a while she calmed enough to break the hug and wiped the tears away. With her head lowered, she admitted a little ashamed, "I only just realized how much I needed this," before looking up at Nora. "Thank you."

"I told you once I will help anyway I can," Nora reminded, her cheeks wet and voice shaking, "You can count on me."

The two women sat by the fireplace until sunrise, Nora wanted to leave eventually but Minerva offered her bed for her to sleep in. After a minor discussion the Nord woman accepted and Minerva left the room, heading towards the great hall, unable to sleep.

She'd calmed enough to return to the world again, only to find the hall empty, except for Jorleif. He was sitting at the grant table, eating fruits and sweetroll's, his attention glued to one of the parchments strewn before him. When he heard her footsteps he looked up and a beaming smile greeted her as he stood from his seat.

“Lady Dragonborn, it is a relief to see you in perfect health," he greeted, then fell into a curtsy. Minerva's smile stretched as she fell into a curtsy as well. Jorleif's shiny mood could banish even the greatest darkness.

“Good morning, Jorleif. I hope you are well?”

Jorleif nodded, “I can't complain, my lady. The city is much more at ease after the butcher has been slain. Though other problems seem to wait at our doorstep.”

Minerva crossed her arms, intrigued by his revelation. “What do you mean, if I may ask?”

Jorleif sighed and it seemed for a second he would not tell her of it. He rubbed his hands together, hesitant to speak about it, but Minerva was glad when he decided to inform her. “Bah, to hell with it. The Dunmer are unhappy with their current state in the Grey Quarters. The guards have caught sight of secret gatherings, they fear a riot.”

Minerva's brows furrowed, a riot was the last thing the Jarl needed in his city. If he had to quell the riot while he waged war, she couldn't even imagine the problems he would run into. She'd heard of the Dunmer and their problems, and while she didn't think that ignoring them would solve the problems, it was only a matter of time until such a thing were to happen if he remained ignorant.

Minerva promised Jorleif to look into it and the Jarl's steward thanked her wholeheartedly, but when her stomach groaned again she couldn't delay her request any longer. “Jorleif, is there a chance I could have something to eat? I'm starving.”

The stewards' eyes widened before he nodded, “Of course my lady! Breakfast will be ready soon!”

She sighed and couldn't stop the smile from showing. “Thank you Jorleif.”

A guard came to him and whispered something to Jorleif. Minerva was curious and when the guard left, Jorleif gave her his undivided attention when he informed, “Actually, the Jarl just invited you to have breakfast with him. Please, let me escort you.”


	17. Orphan

Minerva didn't know where Jorleif was taking her, but they headed through an unknown part of the palace. She tried her best to memorize the hallways and stairs they took, and once they reached the end of the hallway Jorleif knocked gently on the wooden door before he entered, leaving Minerva to wait. She didn't know how to feel about the Jarl's invitation to have breakfast with him, but she was too hungry to give a damn about it. She needed food.

Jorleif returned and nodded that she could enter before he made his way back from where they came. Exhaling deeply, Minerva entered and found she was in the kitchens. There was a huge oven and numerous counters as the cook prepared the food. The Jarl already sat at the table, a mug in his hand and flask within his reach, numerous fruits served across the table.

"Dragonborn," he called, "Good morning. Have a seat."

There was one chair opposite of him and she closed the door behind her before she took the offered seat. A young woman appeared with a silver flask, putting the mug on the table next to Minerva before filling it. She immediately noticed the young woman was an Altmer.

Seeing the Altmer woman fill her mug turned her stomach unpleasantly, even though she'd done nothing to raise her suspicion. She averted her attention back to the Jarl, ignoring the woman completely. Thankfully, she quickly left.

“My Jarl,” she said with a bow of her head, “Good morning.”

Minerva glanced at her surroundings from time to time and found she was too distracted by the Altmer woman. As much as she wished to look anywhere but her, her eyes were drawn to her involuntarily.

"You look rested," Jarl Ulfric commented, pulling her focus to him.

Minerva nodded, "Yes, my Jarl. My strength is slowly coming back."

"No doubt you are eager to resume your quest to slay the World-Eater?" he questioned.

Minerva smirked, crossing her legs as she leaned back into the chair. "I am more eager to fight the Thalmor, honestly. But Alduin will pay sooner or later, for what that dragon did to me."

The Jarl smirked as well, raising his mug silently to that before he drank. Not long after, the cook appeared with the young woman, serving the freshly prepared food. Minerva glared at the woman all the while she made sure everything was at the correct place. The woman was young, probably barely into adulthood but Minerva knew the Thalmor didn't care about age. It made her wonder how the Jarl could sleep peacefully at night knowing an Altmer was working in the palace.

There was a fresh made loaf, stew, dried meat, cooked meat and cooked vegetables, as well as fresh. The food looked delicious and her stomach growled in response to the various scents.

"Is there anything else I can get you, my lady?" the Altmer woman asked and Minerva fidgeted in her seat, finding the food less and less inviting.

How she hated their voices, their posture and everything evolving around them and their 'superiority'. Even though the question was sincere and with no mean intentions, Minerva couldn't tame the rage threatening to claim her. Her closed fists were in her lap, shaking with suppressed rage, as she fought to stay calm with every ounce of her being.

"There is enough on the table," Jarl Ulfric spoke suddenly, pulling Minerva's mind out of the hate that threatened to swallow her. Her wide eyes were directed at him instead of the Altmer woman. Oddly, he was looking at Minerva.

The young woman bowed and left, along with the cook. With them gone the tension slowly evaporated and Minerva's heartbeat calmed by the second. A few heartbeats passed without them saying anything for which she was grateful. She needed a few moments to gather her thoughts and calm her nerves. When she exhaled sharply, she felt as though the earlier moment never happened.

Jarl Ulfric took the mug and raised it, stating, "May we drive the Empire out of Skyrim, and may you slay the World-Eater." His toast pulled her lips into a forced smile and their mugs clashed before they both took a generous sip.

Now with the Altmer gone, she felt a little bit more at ease and looked over the food displayed before her. Minerva didn't know which food to take first, everything looked delicious. The Jarl slowly filled his plate as she decided to take a slice of cooked boar meat, along with cooked vegetables. They ate in a comfortable silence, she spared him a few glances from time to time only to find him focused on the food.

"You will get used to them."

She stopped chewing and lifted her eyes from the plate to him as he spoke suddenly, her mouth full and mood foul. She sat upright and met his gaze, chewing the remaining food in her mouth until she swallowed.

He took a gulp from his drink and slowly put the mug back, explaining, "It will take some time, but you will get used to the elves."

"I don't think so," she retorted, trying her best to sound respectful. "I don't plan to get used to them, nor do I want to."

She resumed eating although her appetite slowly started to dissipate. Talking about the Altmer in general unnerved her. She was aware that many Altmer had lived in Skyrim for generations and a lot of them also despised the Thalmor just as much, but it wasn't enough to trust them. As hard as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't erase the fact she hated every one of them.

Faralda, for example. That woman had been nothing but kind to her after their somewhat rough start, but whenever she was around her Minerva would feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand in alertness, despite knowing she could trust her. She'd met a lot of Altmer during her time in Vvardenfell, Cyrodiil and Skyrim, trusted even some of them, but that didn't stop her from expecting a dagger in her back.

Even Jarl Ulfric had suffered from the hands of the Thalmor. How could he have an Altmer in the Palace so close to him and sleep peacefully at night? She couldn't understand it.

He seemed to sense her distress because he started to explain further, "Many of them have lived in Skyrim for generations. We cannot put them in the same boat as the Thalmor."

Minerva knew that. She sat upright, releasing the food from her fingers a bit roughly into the plate. "I know that, Jarl Ulfric," she spoke, the respect she wanted to maintain slowly fading, "Still, I would be cautious to trust them. The Thalmor know how to get everyone on their side."

She felt slightly victorious for voicing her thoughts but she only wished the circumstances were different. The frown on his face deepened slightly as he released the food from his hands.

"Are you suggesting not to trust Eyla?" he inquired.

Minerva didn't want to know the woman's name, didn't have the desire to know it. It didn't erase the fact she was an Altmer and there was always a small chance she could be a Thalmor spy.

She thought and remained silent for a few heartbeats. It wasn't hers to tell him whether he needed to trust her or not, she didn't know the woman and she didn't know him, nor did she know how long she'd been at the palace. She couldn't see past the fact she was an Altmer working in the palace and that didn't sit well with her.

However, she needed to calm her nerves, it wasn't hers to tell him whom he needed to trust or not.

"No, my Jarl. I am merely stating to be careful. I do not intend to lecture you. I apologize if it seemed that way."

She resumed eating, very aware of his eyes resting on her as she bit into the piece of cooked meat, eyes on the plate. She hoped the discussion would end and they would both eat in peace, and find out why she was invited.

"Eyla's family has lived in Windhelm for generations," he explained calmly, "They were helping around the palace since I was a lad."

She took the flask a bit forcefully and poured the ale into her mug, her attention on the task as her mood turned bitter. Frustration clouded her mind and her tongue was faster than her brain.

"But that is how the Thalmor operate," she started, putting the flask back with a loud thud. The Jarl's frown deepened even more, her eyes moving to him as she added, "They promise mountains of gold and privileges to the ones who can't afford them, only to use them to their benefit."

"Earlier you said you wouldn't lecture me," he reminded her and she stopped eating, lifting her attention from the food to him. His eyes were inspecting her skeptically. He didn't look happy.

"I'm not," she said, then took a sip from her drink, looking at him past the mug before gently placing it down.

He exhaled, clearly irritated, as the vein on his forehead appeared. He resumed eating his food although his earlier calmness was gone. There was nothing calming about the way he ate the food as though he could release all the frustration on it.

It surprised her to find him so defensive of the woman, as though he could blindly trust her. Minerva couldn't share the same measure of trust towards an Altmer, not anytime soon. Her mood fouled and she lost her appetite completely, the frustration clouding the rational part of her mind.

Her tongue was faster than her brain again when she started, "No one can predict the Thalmor, sadly. They have cruel ways to get their way."

He didn't say anything, but she realized her comment didn't sit quite well with him. The way his shoulders tensed and how his brows furrowed showed he became all the more frustrated.

It would be a good time to leave the conversation at that, but she couldn't leave the table without voicing the reason behind her irritation. She was a Nord and Nords spoke what was on their mind.

"Perhaps she's only waiting for the right time to poison your meal," she let the statement hang in the air. She couldn't tell whether he was angry, frustrated or both, but she couldn't clamp her mouth shut. "Perhaps even this meal is poisoned. She could get rid of both the Dragonborn and the leader of the rebellion. It would be a huge success-"

The slam of his open fist on the table enough for her to shut her mouth and knock over a flask. Her heart thudded wildly at his sudden outburst. Madness was written on his face and Minerva clamped her mouth shut, her courage suddenly vanished as she was under the Jarl's hateful gaze.

Utter silence filled the huge kitchen space. No one spoke for quite a while. From the way he looked at her, breathing heavily and angry, she expected anything to happen.

His voice was low and collected when he warned, "I know very well whom to trust, Dragonborn. Don't lecture me in my own damn palace, where I know all of the people since I was a lad."

She lowered her eyes to the now ruined food. He was right. The conversation went out of control and she was to blame for it.

"I know very well who the Thalmor are and how they operate," he said, "I know they have their eyes on me, but I also know whom I can trust."

It took a few seconds until he calmed, sighing heavily as he readjusted in his seat.

She opened her mouth to speak as she finally looked at him, but she didn't know what to say. Her appetite was gone, the tasty food now disarranged on the table and stained with ale. She tapped her lips clean with the napkin, deciding it would be best to leave.

“There is a reason why I have called you, Dragonborn.”

Her eyes flew to his after his admission, only to find him staring at her. His features were tight, but he didn't look like he was angry anymore. She felt uncomfortable under his prying gaze but bravely refused to break it. Patiently and silently she waited for him to reveal the reason behind the invitation, and grew more anxious by the second the more he refused to speak.

His shoulders slumped with the sigh he heaved and he looked towards the kitchen, away from her.

He'd deliberately avoided her gaze when he admitted, “But perhaps it would be better if you leave," which took her by surprise.

Casting one last look at the disarranged food on the table, she stood from her seat and left without sparing him another glance. She was curious to know what exactly he'd had in mind and was disappointed everything had escalated that quickly. It hadn't been in her interest to anger or insult him. Whatever he'd had in mind would have to wait for another time, if and when he was willing to reveal the reason.

When the door closed behind her she tried to remember the way back to the great hall. Luckily, she'd found Nora on the way and the two women returned to Minerva's room in the Palace, but they didn't stay there for long.

The two agreed to take a walk through the city, the fresh air would do Minerva good and help her clear her thoughts, and while they were at it they would head to Sofie.

When they stepped into the great hall again, they were greeted by Jorleif who was oddly surprised to see Minerva.

“My lady?”

Jorleif called out to her hesitantly and Minerva gave him her undivided attention.

“Yes?”

“You returned quickly," he remarked, "I thought the Jarl had something important to speak to you about?”

Even Jorleif seemed well indulged into the matter which frustrated her even more. However, she suspected if it had been something of great importance the Jarl would have spoken to her about it, regardless of their argument.

“The matter was swiftly cleared, Jorleif,” she answered instead, but that didn't seem to convince him.

Minerva had no desire to wait whatever would follow, so she headed for the palace gates, followed by Nora. The two stepped outside and Minerva followed Nora to the little girl, Sofie.

They passed the majority of the city but Minerva wasn't paying much attention to her surroundings. Instead she thought about the breakfast with the Jarl and just how quickly it escalated, thanks to her provocation. Clearly, they had both overreacted, but she went too far. She'd pushed his buttons on purpose and didn't know what she was expecting. He'd lost it because of her and she needed to apologize for her behaviour.

He deserved her apology after he'd taken care of her in the early morning hours. He'd chosen to be there with her after all, she couldn't forget that. She clearly remembered how gentle he was, how patient and calm, not once moving from her side. He'd smelled of smoke and wood, she remembered, and inhaled as though she hoped to catch the same scent again.

She wondered whether he was a completely different person when alone and wondered if she would ever know.

“There.”

They came to a stop and Nora nudged her shoulder, successfully pulling her attention to the present. Minerva looked at what Nora was pointing at; a small girl dressed in layers of cloth that barely resembled a dress, holding a basket of flowers, calling for the bypassing people to buy them.

Her heart contorted. She remembered Lucia, how she'd begged near the great tree in Whiterun with the people ignoring her as best they could. But Lucia had luck, the innkeeper had invited her to stay during the night for free. This girl, Sofie, had no such luck.

Nora told Minerva to wait and the Nord woman approached the child. Sofie's face lit up as she saw her and the two fell in a conversation. Nora then pointed with her thumb over her shoulder at Minerva, Sofie gave her a reluctant once over before she nodded. Minerva approached with a smile even though all she wanted was to cry as she looked at the tattered, dirty clothes and thin shoes that could in no way block the cold.

“Hello Sofie,” said Minerva as she crouched before the girl. “I'm Minerva, pleased to meet you.”

“Hello, pretty lady,” Sofie greeted back, falling into a curtsy.

Minerva kept her eyes on the child's face, noticing the dirt and few bruises on her forehead. She took her tiny, cold hand in hers and the girl visibly tensed but refrained from pulling the hand back. “Tell me, why are you out here? Where are your parents?”

Sofie kept her eyes to the ground as she spoke, her voice so small Minerva could barely hear it over the wind. “They're… dead. My mama died when I was little, I don't remember her very well. My father was a Stormcloak soldier. One day, he left and… he didn't come back.”

The smile was wiped from Minerva's face, her throat suddenly too tight to speak. This girl was homeless because her father had left her behind to fight for the rebellion. She could imagine all the children that had lost their parents because of the war, and knew that was the price of war. But to see it first-hand made her furious. 

Minerva’s mind was already set and there was no one, no man or deity, that could change her mind or talk her out of it.

Smiling, Minerva spoke, “If you would like, I have a place for you to stay,” and there was a light sparkling in the girls eyes, though she remained hesitant.

“Where is it, pretty lady?” she asked, the joy suppressed behind the cautious sparkle in her eyes standing out more and more. 

"I have a room at the palace of the Kings," Minerva explained, "I want you to stay there with me."

“Really?!” The gleam of hope in Sofie's eyes banished every little ounce of doubt Minerva felt. She would come with her, and if the Jarl had any objections she would return to Whiterun with the girl and leave the palace. She didn't know if the Jarl would even care, but she couldn't just turn away from Sofie and leave her to beg for the rest of her days.

"Minerva…" Nora called cautiously, “What will the Jarl say of this?”

Sofie didn't hear her, she was too happy to pay any attention to them. The girl was humming softly and Minerva averted her focus back to Nora.

She tried to sound as calm as possible, even though the determination burned brightly in her heart. “There is nothing he could say to change my mind. If he throws her out, I'm going too. Simple.”

The three headed back to the palace, Minerva gently held Sofie's hand all the way back, feeling her small, cold fingers made her all the more determined to help the girl. Once they reached the gates, Minerva crouched before Sofie, earning her full attention. 

“Sofie,” Minerva started softly, “You'll politely greet the Jarl, then I'll take you with me. It will be your new home for the time being.”

Sofie smiled, but the smile quickly died and Minerva feared she'd said something that insulted the girl. But Sofie was quick to explain as she lowered her gaze, “You mean until there is a family that could adopt me?”

The sadness in her voice tore at Minerva's soul and she was quick to dispel her fears. “Not really. I have a girl who would love to have a sister."

Sofie slowly lifted her eyes from the ground to look at her; her glistening eyes and her trembling lip made it hard for Minerva to keep her own tears at bay. She threw her arms around Minerva's neck, holding on to her tightly as she sniffed.

Minerva shut her eyes and held the girl in a loving embrace before she broke the hug, looking back with the brightest smile Minerva had ever seen.

“Thank you! I promise I'll be good!”

Minerva stood and looked at Nora, she was smiling but there was a shadow of doubt on her face, as though she was afraid of the Jarl's reaction. Minerva shared no such fears; if he was to yell at her and throw her out, then so be it. She wouldn't leave the girl no matter what.

The three stepped inside and Minerva immediately spotted the Jarl sitting on the throne, with Jorleif close. She hadn't seen him since the incident earlier and knew she needed to apologize, but first she needed to clear the matter evolving around Sofie. The girl had lost her father because of the rebellion the Jarl himself had instigated; the least he could do was allow her to stay.

Jorleif was the first to spot them but when the Jarl lifted his eyes from the parchment in hand to them, she had no idea how to identify that look. His eyes repeatedly flew from her to Sofie and back, but his expression remained unchanged. They stopped close to the throne and Sofie fell into a curtsy with Minerva standing right behind her, her hands on Sofie's shoulders.

“My Jarl,” she greeted with a bow of her head, then explained further, “This is Sofie. The girl has nowhere to go, and thus I humbly ask you for her to stay in my room until I find further accommodation for her.”

Out of respect she asked for his permission, but her piercing gaze showed the matter was not debatable. Sofie would stay here with her, or Minerva would show him the finger and leave the palace. The outcome was up to him.

The Jarl's undivided attention was solely on her, searching her face for any further explanation. When he found none, he wondered, “And who is this girl, exactly?” sounding as unhappy as he looked.

Sofie's voice was barely heard through the huge hall, her eyes lowered to the floor when she explained, “My father was Uric Raven-Blood, my Jarl,” and Minerva watched the Jarl's features paling visibly.

Without arguing the matter any further, he gave a firm nod and clarified, “You may stay in the room with the Dragonborn, child.”

Sofie's eyes were wide as she looked up to Minerva with a huge grin on her face, Minerva met her grin with a smile but in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder why the Jarl suddenly changed his mind. Seconds earlier, he'd looked insulted and she thought he would throw them both out. There had to be more to this as Minerva looked at the Jarl from underneath her brows.

He was avoiding her gaze as he focused on the parchment, dismissing them with a loud, “You're dismissed,” and the women guided Sofie to where she would stay.

When Sofie stepped inside the spacious room, she looked in awe. “Wow, that's where I’ll stay?!”

“Do you like it?” asked Minerva as she placed the fur cloak and cape on the desk, forgotten.

"Of course!" Sofie nodded hastily, the smile never leaving her face.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and getting to know each other, Nora left eventually leaving the two alone. Minerva had asked Jorleif to arrange a bath for the girl and he helped without hesitation. She combed Sofie's hair and Minerva chose a comfortable, cotton shirt the girl could sleep in. The two snuggled on the bed and Sofie was asleep quickly. However, Minerva had no such luck and after she placed a gentle kiss on Sofie's head she headed outside the room.

She'd left a sleeping, softly snoring Sofie behind and made her way towards the palace hall. Jorleif was there and Minerva inquired whether there was a study in the palace. Jorleif nodded and escorted her to the study, leaving her in front of the door after they arrived. Quietly she opened the door and stepped inside, and found that a lone candle was burning in the corner. A figure was hunched over the table reading something, and when she recognized it was the Jarl of Windhelm himself, she contemplated whether to leave.

This would be a good opportunity to apologize for her behaviour, but since Jorleif didn't know the Jarl was here she guessed he wished to be alone. However, she wouldn't disturb him and she turned for the door.

“Feel free to use the study as you wish," came his calm remark. She barely recognized his voice. "You do not disturb me."

Although she rather wanted to leave, she found it would be thoughtless to do so after his invitation. Sighing softly, she stepped into the study and pulled the door close, wordlessly heading to the closest bookshelf. With her back to him, she inspected the books. Nothing particular caught her attention until she found the book  _ An Accounting of the Scrolls  _ and decided to read it. She took her seat near the windows, far enough from the Jarl, and she focused on the words in the book. It was interesting and its content helped her shut out her surroundings.

It wasn't until the Jarl stood up after what felt like half an hour that she tore her attention from the book. He'd moved to the display case, grabbed a flask and poured himself whatever was inside into a mug. He'd kept his back to her as he did so, saying, "Ale?" and she understood he was offering her a mug of ale. Maybe it would loosen them up a little?

She shot the book close and abandoned it on the desk as she stood up, erasing the space between them before she took the offered goblet. Oddly, he'd poured his drink into a simple mug, whereas hers was in a beautiful silver goblet. “Thank you," she thanked.

They both took a sip from their drink as they gazed out the windows, watching the snow storm raging outside. The fire in the hearth burned brightly and warmed the entire room. A few torches and candles were lit around the walls and tables, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the room completely. It was a comfortable atmosphere to read she thought, calming and serene. It had a positive effect on her mood and she wasn't as anxious around him.

“She seemed familiar to me,” he spoke suddenly, “I couldn't place where I’ve seen her face before, but when she mentioned her father's name, I could practically see him.”

Minerva slowly averted her gaze to the Jarl standing next to her, admiring the color and shape of hair as she listened. He took another sip from his mug before adding, “Uric was one of the best soldier’s I've worked with.”

“You knew him?” she inquired, intrigued to know where he'd met Sofie's father.

“He died in my arms,” he stated grimly and Minerva winced inwardly. “The Imperials ambushed us at Darkwater Crossing. We had put up a fight, but their numbers increased until we were outnumbered. Few of my soldier’s had died, including Uric, before I had ordered them to put their weapons down. They took us to our execution, and you’ve seen the rest.” He took another sip; the hand holding the mug was shaking as he recalled the memory, drinking the mug empty. His gaze fixed on the window as though he was reliving the scene.

He continued, “He's told me of his daughter the night before, and I promised him he would see her again. What a terrible liar I am.” He looked at her then and the nearby candle casted disturbing shadows over his solemn features. “Where did you find her?”

“Nora found her. She's told me of a girl selling flowers near the harbor. I've asked her to bring me to her.”

The Jarl nodded to her answer as he took the flask and poured the last drops of ale into his mug.

When he drank the mug empty he abandoned it on the windowsill, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. Unabashed she stared at him, noticing just how troubled he seemed, as though he'd blamed himself for Sofie’s fate. Uric had probably been a good friend to him.

Minerva softly stated, “It wasn't your fault," but he didn't react to her statement, simply continued to look out the window, his jaw working and temple pulsing.

Silence fell in the room and she had the urge to change the course of the conversation, hoping somehow to relieve the tension in the room. “She won't stay in the palace for long. As soon as I find a suitable home for purchase, she will come with me," she admitted, and found the tension seemed to evaporate.

Ulfric kept his gaze forward when he asked, “Are you to adopt her?”

Her answer was a firm and simple, “Yes."

A few heartbeats passed in silence before he moved, slowly and suddenly, taking a small neatly rolled parchment out from the pocket of his shirt, secured with a wax seal of Windhelm.

Minerva hesitantly accepted it from him as he stated, “You won't have to look long for a property," confusing her even more.

She broke the seal and unrolled the parchment; her eyes widened when she read  _ ‘Ownership deed'  _ and further read that Hjerim now belonged to her.

Surprise widened her features as she looked at him, but she quickly rolled the parchment and handed it back to him, stating, “I cannot accept this.”

Slowly he turned to face her and Minerva swallowed nervously. He'd looked insulted, as though she called him the worst names known to humanity. She tried to calm her heartbeat, but the way he looked made her wary of him.

“Are you denying the wish of a Jarl?”

Minerva was caught off guard with his sudden change and didn't know how to react to his authoritative stance. When she answered a low, “No, my Jarl,” he huffed.

“Then take the deed. You and Sofie deserve a home in Windhelm. The people of Windhelm are honored to count you as one of her citizens.”

Something clicked in her mind, pieces falling together. She couldn't help but wonder, “Is that why you invited me to breakfast this morning?”

The Jarl nodded and answered a simple, “Aye,” and Minerva couldn't help but feel bad about her behaviour. Now was a good time to apologize.

Inhaling sharply, she confessed, “I have to apologize for my behaviour, my Jarl,” as she lowered her gaze to his chest, “I overstepped my boundaries. I shouldn't have spoken as I have."

He said nothing and it made her nervous. She gathered her courage and moved her eyes up to find him watching her. As the seconds passed, she felt as though he was waiting for her to say something.

Minerva wasn't ashamed of staring at the Jarl of Windhelm, the Bear of Markarth, right in his eyes.

She decided to confess something, “During my time on the Summerset Isles, I learned to understand the elves through their gestures and through the look in their eyes.” She took a deep breath, hating how the memory circulated the fear inside of her. “I didn't understand their language, I didn't even care to learn. But I could figure out what they wanted when they looked at me a certain way.”

He was watching her silently, absorbing every of her words but she was getting away from her point, from what she wanted to tell him. "I learned that the eyes of both Man and Mer reflected more than they liked to admit. It has helped me through a lot of situations unscathed."

"What do you see in mine?" he asked calmly, his voice soft and barely recognizable.

Suddenly, everything vanished around her as she freely stared right back at him. Her heartbeat elevated, her mouth suddenly dry as she caught his eyes wandered freely over her face. There was a dreamy look on him and she wondered what he was thinking about.

"I'm not certain," she admitted, and found his brows furrow a bit. She'd kept her voice low when she admitted, "Sometimes, there is a spark in them, bright enough to ignite the courage within everyone. But sometimes, that spark is missing… as though you're losing faith."

He seemed lost for a second, but he recovered quickly and wondered, "What makes you think I lost faith?" sounding a bit harsher than he did before, but there was no anger behind his words. It was pure curiosity, and since he wished to know she decided to be honest with him.

"Even the most courageous men are haunted by a darkness that threatens to swallow them. And I think you have been through it all… my Jarl."

She couldn't even imagine the loss and agony and fear he'd faced throughout his life. He was a brave man, Minerva had no doubt of it, but she couldn't help but feel as though he'd seen and been through the worst.

He looked as though he was thinking about her statement, the wheels were turning behind his eyes. But the way his face tensed if only a little, as though he was suppressing his frustration, made her courage start to falter. His presence suddenly wasn't as calming as it had been mere seconds ago, instead it started to choke her. What if she said the wrong things, she started to wonder. Thinking she might have insulted him in some way made her heart race in panic.

She decided to head back to her room and check on Sofie; she needed to get away from him.

"Excuse me, my Jarl," she spoke, voice trembling, "I'll need to get back and check on Sofie."

She moved past him and was very aware of his eyes following her every step; it was as though a wraith had decided to haunt her until she finally exited the room and closed the door behind her. She exhaled deeply, trying to clear the fog from her mind before she hurried back to her room, looking past her shoulder every few steps in distress he might follow her.

The anxiety left her the moment she quietly stepped into her room, relieved she found Sofie still sleeping soundly. She removed her boots and placed them aside before she slowly climbed into the bed. Sofie readjusted but kept sleeping, and Minerva made herself comfortable as well, resting her head on the soft pillow. It had been a long day with a lot to process, and she fell asleep quickly with the Jarl of Windhelm crossing her mind.


	18. Ornament

“Sofie,” Minerva said as she crouched in front of the girl, earning her full attention, “You will thank the Jarl for allowing you to stay, yes?”

“Yes, Minerva,” she replied happily, smoothing down the purple dress Minerva had bought from the local merchant earlier in the morning.

Minerva nodded and stood, glancing at the mirror to look at her reflection; she still wore the same oversized shirt she'd slept in, only added a black leather vest to it and leather greaves. She would change as soon as she moved her things to Hjerim, but her priority was to get in contact with Delphine.

Both Minerva and Sofie took their backpacks and cloaks, and the two headed out. Before she stepped into the hallway, Minerva looked at the spacious room one last time, wondering if she would ever reside in it again. Somehow, she felt connected to the room even though she hadn't resided in it as much as she'd liked to.

Sighing, she stepped into the hallway and pulled the door close. She guided Sofie through the hallway, towards the war room and out into the palace hall.

The Jarl's eyes immediately flew to them as soon as they stepped into the great hall. They landed briefly on Sofie before they moved to her. Her stomach turned as she remembered the encounter from the previous night and fully expected him to be irritated to see her. To her surprise, none of the irritation showed on his face and he instead looked as calm and collected as always. There was no trace of anger, either, which meant he wasn't insulted. She felt a stone fall from her heart.

Once they stopped Sofie fell into a curtsy, the pride of wearing a new dress radiating off of her.

“Thank you for your hospitality, my Jarl,” she spoke confidently, and Minerva watched the statement summon a rare smile on the Jarl's face.

Jarl Ulfric stood and walked down the few stairs in their direction. Minerva watched his every step carefully and grew more anxious the closer he got because she didn't know what to expect of him. She was surprised when he crouched before the girl, his attention solely on her.

“I have something for you,” he spoke softly as he took out a necklace from his attire. He held it out to Sofie as he explained, “This belonged to your father. He wished for you to have it."

He put the necklace around Sofie and readjusted it on the new dress with a distant look in his eyes. A few heartbeats passed in silence before she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck in a hug. The Jarl was surprised at first, but quickly hugged the girl back with an arm, patting her back. Minerva's eyes watered as she barely found the strength to keep the tears away, the effort made even harder by the sniff that came from Sofie.

After a while, Sofie stepped back swiftly and bowed her head to him, her voice quivering when she said, “Thank you, my Jarl.”

“Wear your father's name proudly,” he spoke, never once looking away from her, “He was a good man, and a even better soldier.” He gave her shoulder a pat before he stood up, his attention now directed at Minerva. He pulled a iron ring of two keys from his pocket, handing it to her as he said, “I believe you need these.”

She was speechless as she accepted the keys from him, never breaking his gaze as her bare fingers brushed against his and found his hands were cold. The second their skin met she felt a spark shoot up her arm right to her heart. Never did she think to see any act of kindness from the Jarl, especially not to a little girl. The display warmed her heart and made her belly do a pleasant flip.

“Thank you,” she said. He merely nodded and gave her a quick once over. There was a hint of a smile on his face before he left to sit on the throne.

Minerva gently nudged Sofie towards the gates, taking her hand as they walked closer to it. She caught Sofie looking behind her shoulder, wondering, “Will we see the Jarl again?”

The guards opened the palace gates for them, Sofie taking one last look at the Jarl before they stepped outside. Minerva smiled at the display.

“Certainly,” she promised as the two made their way to Hjerim.

Minerva's stomach turned in disgust as they came closer to the property, the memory of what she'd found inside the first time still haunting her. The stench of rotten, human flesh was still imprinted in her nose. She turned the keys into the lock and slowly opened the door, and as the interior revealed itself before them the two could only stare in wide eyed shock.

“Wow, look at the size of it!” Sofie stated as she ran inside, Minerva slowly following.

Sofie ran up the stairs to inspect her future home further and Minerva took in her surroundings; there was no indication that the house once belonged to a serial killer. Each detail was perfectly in place and the fire burned beautifully in the hearth.

Someone walked out of the kitchen and Minerva smiled.

"I didn't expect to find you here, honestly," Minerva admitted.

Nora smiled as she came closer to the table, carrying a freshly made loaf. "The Jarl has asked me to keep Hjerim clean and ready for the Dragonborn."

Although she knew Nora was here on behalf of the Jarl's orders, Minerva didn't want her to be her cleaning lady. Just the thought of having someone do the chores for her made her anxious. Nora was a good woman, one Minerva intended to treasure as a friend.

“There is no need to, Nora. You are free to stay here, but as a friend, to use the home as I would."

She placed the loaf on the table and faced Minerva with a confident smile on her face. “I promised I would do anything to help. And if it means keeping the house of the Dragonborn clean, so be it.”

Minerva was humbled to have such a friend and her lips stretched into a smile as well. “Then I shall thank you with my whole heart, Nora. Thank you."

Sofie returned from upstairs and was happy to find Nora in the home, and she promised to help serve everything on the table for lunch.

Minerva went up the stairs, admiring the spaciousness of the house and the many rooms in it. Each room was neatly decorated, the Jarl surely had spared no expense. She didn't know what to think of him giving her such an extraordinary gift. Hjerim was worth far more than what she'd done for Windhelm, but the Jarl thought differently.

She walked in what she guessed was the master bedroom and noticed the huge bed in the center of it. As she walked closer to it, admiring the room in the process, she noticed a tiny, neatly folded note on one of the pillows. She opened it and read its content.

_ I hope you like your accommodation. _

_ Jarl Ulfric _

The smirk that unearthed on her face couldn't be hindered even if she looked like a complete fool. Sitting down on the soft mattress, she ran her hand over the silky, thick cover, and wondered if the Jarl had picked the decor himself.

She glanced at the few wardrobes and went to them, curious to find out whether they were empty or not. Her eyebrows arched at the content of the first wardrobe; several dresses were lined up and Minerva took one out. It was a burgundy silk dress with beautiful gold embroidery. She stared at the dress for a few seconds, admiring its cut and beauty before she put it back.

The next was a emerald colored gown with a black corset and Minerva bit her lip. The dress was even more elegant than the one before. She put it back and quickly took out another that had caught her attention; a midnight blue dress with a silver belt around its waist, hundreds of pearls adorned on its lower part. The pearls reminded her of stars twinkling on the night sky and she walked with the dress in hand to the nearby mirror, leaning the dress on her body. It was gorgeous, the most beautiful dress Minerva had ever seen as she stared at her reflection, barely able to contain her wish to put it on. This dress couldn't be bought at a regular market; it had to be tailored because the pearls alone costed a fortune and no local merchant could afford them.

She ran her hand over the soft fabric, her mind drifting to the Jarl as she wondered whether he'd ordered the dresses for her, but almost immediately she felt stupid for even thinking he might had wasted his time on such a menial task. She kept watching the dress in her reflection, wondering the same thing over and over.

_ Did Jarl Ulfric order these for me? If so, why? _

Sighing, she glanced at the dress one more time before she put it back into the wardrobe. She opened the drawers and found a few nightgowns inside, undergarments and shoes. Minerva found the second wardrobe to be empty and decided to stash her armor inside later, the two mannequins in the room would also prove useful. Glancing at the room one last time, she walked out and decided to join the rest of them downstairs.

The stew was already served at the table, along with the test of the food. Once everything was ready, they sat down and enjoyed the freshly made meal. Minerva was starving, as was Sofie who was barely holding back from shoving down the food. It was probably a long time ago since she enjoyed such food.

Minerva was the first to finish after a while but decided to sit with them and they fell in a conversation. Once everyone was done eating they all helped clear the table. Minerva excused herself after the last things have been removed from the table, telling them she needed to write some letters.

Once inside her room, Minerva closed the door and walked to the desk in the corner, spreading the parchment in front of her as she sat down. She took the quill and the first person that came to her mind was Ralof, but writing him a letter felt wrong. She couldn't explain why she was so hesitant to get in touch with him, and if she was honest she didn't know what to write. She wanted to thank him personally for bringing Colette to Windhelm, and she guessed she would meet up with him soon.

So she decided to write the first letter to Delphine.

_ D _

_ What's our next course of action? _

_ M _

It took a moment for the ink to dry, and when it did she folded the letter and sealed it. Next, she decided to write Lydia, to let her housecarl know she would spend most of the time in Windhelm from now on.

_ Lydia, _

_ It has been quite a while since I wrote you, but know that I am well and alive. How are you? How is Lucia? _

_ I own a property in Windhelm now and will arrange a carriage to transport the both of you here. It is a house large enough for all of us. Take your time, I will need a few days to prepare said carriage. _

_ Sincerely, Minerva.  _

Minerva folded the letter and stood up, putting the cloak around her shoulders as she put the letters into the backpack. Heading back downstairs again, she found Nora and Sofie in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. She informed them she would head out to the inn to find a courier and take a stroll through the city.

Minerva stepped out of Hjerim and inhaled deeply, the chilly air oddly calming. The snow gently fell from the sky as she made her way to the inn.

It didn't take her long to find a courier thankfully, and she payed the man a nice sum of gold to deliver the letters fast and discreet. With the courier gone she had nothing else to do so she decided to go to the Grey Quarters. The information Jorleif had entrusted her with still plagued the back of her mind and she decided to take a look into the matter, to find out whether the Dunmer and everyone living in the Grey Quarters could be reasoned with.

The city streets were unusually empty as she walked further towards the Grey Quarters. She took the final stairs and stopped, taking in the sight of the ruined houses and dirty streets. Voices from not that far ahead caught her attention and she approached them. The first thing she spotted was a group of Nords throwing stones at something. As she rounded the corner her eyes widened as she realized they weren't throwing stones on the houses, but on two Dunmer holding their hands up in defense.

One Nord spoke up as he prepared to throw another rock, “ You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!”

“We haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!” yelled one of the Dunmer back.

Another Nord added, “Yet you request our respect!”

One of the Dunmer fell to the ground as the rock hit him right on his head. She needed to intervene.

“Hey!” Minerva yelled as she hurriedly erased the few remaining steps, stopping before the Nords.

The men eyed her angrily before one of them barked, “This is none of your business Breton. Leave!”

She pulled back the hood from her head and their eyes widened in recognition. Only one remained unfazed by her title.

“The Dragonborn,” he spat in disgust, stretching his neck from side to side and the bones cracked audibly with the effort. “I'll give you one more chance to leave before I'll beat you to death.”

“Rolff!” another Nord yanked at his arm in an attempt to pull him away, but Rolff remained persistent.

“I'm not afraid of her!” he declared before he raised his fists, warning, “I'll give you one more chance to leave, or I'll beat you!”

Minerva had no intention of instigating a fight in the middle of the street but she couldn't leave the two Dunmer to their fate. That arrogant Nord deserved a lesson, and she decided to give him one. She removed her cloak and it fell to the ground before she raised her own fists. Rolff smiled broadly, as if his wish came true before he advanced on her.

She dodged each of his attacks, her slender frame making it difficult for him to land a punch. The first hit Minerva landed was a kick to his gut that sent him to the ground. Rolff shook his head and pulled himself up on his feet, again advancing on her but she knocked him down with a kick to his face.

The three other Nords helped a bloody and beaten Rolff up. Minerva's narrowed eyes remained on his when she warned, “You should watch what you're saying. Not everyone shares the same thoughts as you.”

Rolff huffed in displeasure before they took their leave. Minerva watched their backs before they disappeared behind the corner. She took the cloak and shook the snow from it before she put it back on, then crouched next to the Dunmer whose head had been injured.

They winced at her presence as Minerva gently inquired, “May I?” and the Dunmer nodded hesitantly after a while. She brought her glowing hands to his injury before she casted her healing spell, the wound closing immediately.

“Thank you, but that wasn't necessary,” one of them said, avoiding her gaze, as they stood.

“Nonsense. Do they harass you often?" she inquired sincerely.

One Dunmer patted the dirt from his attire, "Not often enough it seems, and according to them it's our fault."

Minerva crossed her arms as an idea came to her mind. “You know you have to earn a Nords respect. Perhaps you should consider joining the fight.”

Both the Dunmer snorted before one stated, “And risk throwing our lives away for people that don't even care? No thank you.”

So that was the problem. Luckily it didn't take her long to find out what exactly the problem was. “Would you consider aiding the rebellion if the Nords stopped harassing you?”

One of the Dunmer crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes further. “If that day were to come, I would gladly rise my sword for the rebellion, and I'm certain the others would as well.”

Minerva nodded and shook both their hands before she tried one more time to convince them. “I'll see what I can do, but give it a thought. You would fight for Skyrim's independence, and for yourself.”

The two Dunmer exchanged a look before they turned to her again. “We’ll think about it. It would certainly feel good to fight for something.”

“Thank you, fair lady.”

Minerva smiled and gave a nod before the two left. She walked further into the Grey Quarters and found the New Gnisis Cornerclub, and without giving the idea much thought she entered. Everyone’s attention in the tavern was pulled to her as she entered, their conversations died, and Minerva took a seat at the bar. The bartender regarded her first.

“We don't see many Breton's here,” he stated, “What can I get you?”

Minerva took a quick look of her surroundings, nothing specifically caught her attention other than the Dunmer and a few Bosmer looking at her. She turned back to the bartender and ordered ale, and when she took the mug in her hand she took a small gulp. The ale tasted strange, as if it had mold in it but Minerva decided not to inquire further.

“You seem lost,” the bartender inquired further, “Are the Nords giving you trouble as well?”

Minerva watched the bartender and took in his complexion. Lowering her eyes to the mug, she decided to play along. “Actually I just returned from the battlefield.”

The bartender looked displeased, as though she insulted him. He ran a rag over the counter top, his attention on the task as he reprimanded her, “If you're stupid enough to throw your life away for them, then so be it.”

An uncomfortable silence fell in the tavern and Minerva looked behind her again, now fully aware of every pair of eyes watching her. Adrenaline slowly started to pump through her veins as she returned her attention to the mug. She decided to ignore them for now but knew that she wasn't welcome here.

“I don't have problems with the Nords,” she spoke, “Not anymore, at least.”

“How so?” inquired the bartender curiously.

Minerva took another sip from her ale and was certain there was mold in it. She looked the bartender square in the eye when she stated, “I joined the rebellion and earned my respect.”

“Did the Jarl's steward sent you?” Someone from behind her bit out and she turned in her seat. A Bosmer shot the question at her and Minerva crossed her legs.

“No. Why should he?"

The Bosmer huffed and resumed drinking his ale, but another Dunmer answered, “Because that is the same line the guards tell us. That we should earn their respect.”

“I don't see anything wrong with that,” Minerva spoke and earned the Bosmer narrowed gaze. “What have you done to earn their respect, exactly?”

“They destroy our homes,” another Dunmer bit out and Minerva looked at him, “And the Jarl does nothing to punish the ones responsible! They can do as they please because they are Nords!”

“Exactly!”

"Because Skyrim is for the Nords, and for nobody else!" one bit out bitterly.

She stood up and eyed each one of them, showing them she wasn't intimidated by their sharp gazes the least. “You sit in the tavern and complain about your current state, instead of fighting for a change.” Her statement had summoned a snarl over a few of them and she couldn't help but continue to mock them in hope she would get the desired result.

“The Jarl is fighting for everyone’s freedom, not just the freedom of Nords. All true sons and daughters of Skyrim are welcome to fight to give our children a better future. Isn't that worth fighting for?!”

Everyone watched her with their eyes narrowed after her little speech. “The Dunmer and Bosmer are great warrior’s,” she tried to appeal to them one more time, “Why are you throwing away your talents, when you could fight for a better future, an independent Skyrim?”

No one said a word. Minerva paid for her drink and eyed each person in the tavern one more time before she headed for the exit.

“Under one condition.”

Minerva stopped as she was just about to turn the handle, she turned to face a Dunmer who stood up from his seat. He kept his narrowed eyes on her when he revealed, “We want every Nord that has harassed us in any way possible to be arrested.”

“Aye!” roared the tavern in unison.

“Especially Rolff Stone-Fist!”

The bartender looked at her with a smug smile on his face, adding, “We are citizens of Windhelm after all. We want to be treated as such.”

“Aye!”

Minerva eyed the bartender carefully, gauging her options and their conditions to join the rebellion. Their help would be a huge asset but would the Jarl agree to this? Minerva feared he would rather lose the war than to depend on the Dunmer for help. She left the tavern without voicing a word and made her way to the palace quickly, hoping she could present the news to Jarl Ulfric. 

When she opened the palace gates moments later, she was disappointed to see the throne empty. Jorleif was sitting on the huge table, several parchments strewn before him. He was too occupied in his readings to notice her, and only did so when she called out to him.

She eyed the throne, then looked at him before asking, “Where is the Jarl? I need to speak to him.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible,” apologized Jorleif before explaining, “The Jarl retreated to his chambers and strictly said not to be disturbed. Perhaps I can help you?”

Minerva glanced at the entrance to the war room, briefly thinking of going to the Jarl anyway, despite his wish to be left alone. The reason why he requested such a thing interested her, but it would be wrong to ignore it. So she would talk to Jorleif instead and find out his opinion.

“I've talked to the Dunmer, well, most of them. They're frustrated because a group of Nords have been harassing them for quite some time now and the Jarl has done nothing against it.”

Jorleif smoothed his beard, looking disturbed as he listened to every word she said.

“They’re even willing to join the rebellion but only if the Jarl decides to act. They've particularly asked for the arrest of Rolff Stone-Fist.”

A shadow was casted over his features and Minerva couldn't remember a time he looked so distressed. “Dammit, Rolff, you daft man!” he spoke as he shook his head, sighing before he explained, “He's Galmar's brother, and he thinks he can do whatever he likes.” He sighed again, this time out of pure irritation. “The Jarl won't like this.”

“What do you propose?” She asked, eager to hear the stewards opinion.

Jorleif thought for a moment, soothing his beard as he stared out behind her blankly. “The Jarl will not want to get involved,” he stated warily, “He fears either side might riot if he takes action.”

“I highly doubt the Nordic citizens will riot because he arrested a group of them for harassment.” Minerva summarised, finding the thought somehow ridiculous. “The Dunmer want to be treated as citizens of Windhelm. That is their only request.”

Jorleif sighed and Minerva saw she talked the idea into him. “Very well, I will talk to the Jarl about this, but I won't promise anything. Though, if I am honest, I would be happy to see an end to it. Thank you, Dragonborn.”

Minerva smiled, “Don't thank me yet. We still have to see what happens.”

Jorleif nodded to that and Minerva left the Palace, deciding to head home and wait for Delphine's letter.


	19. Fate

Four days had already passed with no answer from either Delphine or Lydia. Minerva feared something had happened to the courier but hoped they had at least received her letters. Jorleif had promised to inform her of their decision regarding the Dunmer as soon as they made up their minds, but for her it couldn't be soon enough. They needed to act, otherwise they could lose potential allies.

Minerva was tapping her foot nervously as she sat by the hearth downstairs in Hjerim, watching the flames consume the wood. The strength had returned to her and she was ready to continue her quest to slay Alduin, but without word from Delphine she couldn't know whether they'd already planned their next course of action. On the other hand, she couldn't leave Windhelm just yet because she was impatiently waiting for word from Jarl Ulfric, and if he didn't come to a decision soon Minerva would go to him and speak to him personally.

_ Or I can just go to the palace right now. _

Minerva contemplated for a few seconds but decided to do just that. She disappeared upstairs and decided to put on her ebony armor. Somehow, she felt like she would need it.

Once the armor was in place, she glanced at the mirror and took in her reflection before she headed out. The guards she met along the way acknowledged her with a nod, Minerva doing the same, and it didn't take her long to reach the palace. She stepped inside the grand hall and was disappointed to find the Jarl absent. Her brows furrowed in suspicion as she noticed Jorleif talking to several guards. She headed to him.

“Dragonborn,” he greeted once she stopped close to him, sounding as disturbed as he looked. There was a shadow over his features, one she had never seen before. The guards dispersed in different directions, she hoped to find out why Jorleif had talked to them in the first place.

“Jorleif, where is the Jarl?”

He sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped. “He's been acting strange for the past couple of days,” he started, “He said he wasn't feeling well and retreated to his chambers after he barely ate something of his meal this morning. I have a bad feeling, I doubled the patrols throughout the palace.”

“We should check in on him,” she suggested, “Will you come with me?”

“Of course.”

The two made their way towards the war room, then up the stairs that would lead them to the Jarl's quarters. Minerva had a strange feeling knotting her stomach. They reached the door to his chambers quickly and gently she turned the handle but found the door locked. Her alarms went off, the Jarl had no reason to lock himself inside his room.

" _ Laas!" _

Minerva used the Aura Whisper shout, but was relieved to find just one life essence in the room. She lockpicked the door and turned to Jorleif, showing with her hand to stay behind her. She held her breath as she opened the door as silently as possible. 

If they were wrong, the Jarl would reprimand them for their stupidity, but at least they would know he was safe. When the door opened completely she didn't find anything suspicious at first. Jorleif appeared next to her and gasped. It took her a second longer to find the Jarl sitting on the chair at the desk, unmoving, the meal in front of him untouched. No candle or torch burned close to him, the shadow was too dark for them to clearly see his face.

"Jarl Ulfric?" Jorleif called out as he stepped further into the room with Minerva following. No reaction came. Minerva felt a draft grazing her face and her eyes found one of the windows wide open. She frowned and they headed closer.

They noticed he sat strangely with his head hung and his hands on his lap. Jorleif stopped on one side and Minerva on the other. He still didn't react to them.

"Ulfric?" Jorleif called worriedly and placed his hand on the Jarl's shoulder. The gentle touch was enough to nudge the Jarl in Minerva's direction. She caught him just as he was about to slide from the chair, taking her almost with him.

As her arms wound around his torso, she noticed something warm and wet on her gauntlets. She lowered him on the floor and slid on her knees as she placed her hand on his cheek. He didn't react.

"What's wrong with him?" Jorleif wondered as Minerva removed the pieces of dark fur and clothes from his stomach. She undid the last few buttons of his shirt and pushed it open to reveal the many wounds on his stomach.

"Mara's mercy! Ulfric!" Jorleif gasped as he fell on his knees as well.

Minerva removed her gauntlets and brought her bare hands to his wounds, casting her healing magic. Her shout had shown his essence earlier which meant he was still alive, even though he'd probably lost a lot of blood. There was no telling how long he was like this or who had caused his current state.

She healed everything she could see but she wanted to make sure she didn't miss any life threatening injuries so she undid the rest of the buttons, completely unveiling his torso. The wounds were caused by a dagger, they were narrow but deep and whoever had caused them didn't hold back. His entire torso had been stabbed. It made her wonder who'd done it and how they managed to get so close to him.

"When was the last time he left the room?" she inquired, her eyes on his, noticing how he breathed more calmly and how his eyes focused on his surroundings. He would live.

Jorleif was quick to answer, "This morning before breakfast, but he seemed ill and he said to bring the meal to his room."

"Who brought the meal?"

Jorleif was silent for a heartbeat before admitting, "Eyla did."

Hundreds of thoughts piled in her mind, each of them presenting her a scenario how Eyla tried to murder the Jarl. A snarl tensed her features. 

"But she returned quickly," Jorleif added as though he sensed her thoughts. "And she wasn't stained with blood."

Every injury was healed and Minerva took a closer look at his face. He was looking at her and breathing calmly, and the rosy undertone of his skin slowly returned but his lips remained pale.

"Are you in pain?" she inquired softly, noticing how his eyes ran over her face.

He merely shook his head, he seemed too weak to speak, and Jorleif called for the guards. They helped him up and guided him towards the bed. Minerva walked towards the open window, wondering how anyone could have climbed the steep walls of the palace to enter the Jarl's quarters. The draft cooled the room and she closed the window, making a mental note to look outside as soon as possible.

"Dragonborn?"

Jorleif called from next to her and Minerva gave him her undivided attention. He glanced at the window and she saw the question in his eyes.

"Whoever did this must have used the window to get inside," she elaborated quietly but it only stirred more questions.

"But Ulfric said he wasn't feeling well. Does that mean he was also poisoned?"

Minerva shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. I guess they used a poison to weaken him so they could finish the job." But that didn't make any sense to her. If they had access to the Jarl's food they could have used a strong poison to kill him, but that would make the cook and whoever was working in the kitchen the main suspect.

Minerva didn't want to think like this, but she couldn't shake the thoughts of Eyla trying to murder the Jarl.

Maybe Jorleif could tell her more. "Who else has access to the kitchens?"

He was quick to answer, "The guards make sure only Sifnar and Eyla enter the kitchen."

"Do you think any of them could have poisoned him?" she wondered bluntly.

Jorleif was taken back by her question. "We all trust them. They have been faithful to Ulfric's family for years."

"So that is a no, then?"

The tension in his face showed he wasn't happy with her questioning. "I don't think any of them would have poisoned him."

They all trusted that elven woman, it should be enough to assure her she could be trusted and that Minerva's paranoia was simply because of her past. However, she couldn't blindly trust the woman, or any Altmer.

"I will investigate, this cannot go unpunished," she stated sharply and was glad when Jorleif agreed with her.

"Should you have the need, Eyla and Sifnar are both in the kitchens preparing dinner." Jorleif informed, although he didn't sound as enthusiastic about it.

Minerva headed for the door and kept her gaze on the Jarl of Windhelm on her way out. His back was to her and she could faintly see a lot of diagonal scars, old scars as she could tell. Seeing the Bear of Markarth like this was shocking, but he would manage and he would be as good as new in a few days. To think that he would have died if they didn't arrive turned her stomach unpleasantly. Everything they fought for would be lost.

Quietly she headed out of the room and headed towards the kitchen. Luckily she didn't get lost in the hallway and she approached the lone guard standing near the kitchen entrance.

"Dragonborn," he greeted with a nod.

Minerva asked for permission to enter and the guard stepped aside to grant her entrance. As Jorleif predicted, the two were immersed in making everything for dinner so they didn't notice her immediately.

"Yes, Dragonborn. Is there something you need?" Sifnar inquired, deeply immersed in cutting the venison to slices.

Minerva's eyes were on the Altmer woman as she did her task without ever looking at her. She looked at Sifnar as she declared, "There has been an attempt to kill the Jarl."

Both of them stopped and gasped as they looked at her, wide eyed and shocked. Both their reactions were genuine, however she couldn't exactly tell if the Altmer woman was lying.

Minerva continued, "We suspect his meals were poisoned."

"Divines mercy," gasped the elven woman.

Sifnar's face tensed as he thought, muttering, "Come to think of it, he was ill the last few days."

"Yes," agreed Eyla while looking at him, "If I remember correctly, he started feeling sick since we used the new spices."

"What spices?" Minerva inquired sharply.

The elven woman swallowed nervously, her eyes wide but Sifnar calmly explained, "Eyla and I bought spices from an Imperial in the market. Usually we buy them from Hillevi Cruel-Sea, but the Imperial bragged about his spices to be the best in Cyrodiil. So we bought those."

"But the Imperial left," Eyla inserted and Minerva averted her focus on her, "He wasn't there the other day. I wanted to buy more since the Jarl liked the new spices."

_ Idiots,  _ Minerva thought and immediately headed out towards the market. She would ask the rest of the stall owners if they knew where the Imperial had gone to. But if he was a Thalmor spy as Minerva suspected him to be, he was already beyond the borders of Skyrim.

She was quickly at the market and headed to the only food vendor there, Hillevi Cruel-Sea. The usual number of stalls were open which meant the Imperial was gone.

"Hello, fine lady," the Nord vendor greeted, "Care to buy some freshly grown crops?"

Minerva looked over the offered vegetables, wondering, "Do you grow all your own crops?"

Hillevi chuckled, "Everything you see here is grown at my family's own Hollyfrost Farm."

Smiling, she nodded and decided to get on with her task, "I was wondering if you could help me. I'm looking for a friend. He was here a few days ago, an Imperial selling spices."

"Oh yes, I remember him. He wasn't fond of talking and wasn't even trying to get the customers attention," Hillevi admitted.

"I owe him some money," Minerva lied in hope to find the Imperials location, "Perhaps someone knows where he went?"

Hillevi shook her head, smiling apologetically, "He wasn't talking to us at all, he refused to speak and only made notes in his journal. One day he sold a bag of spices to Sifnar and left afterwards. A strange man."

Her suspicion proved to be true, the Imperial was a Thalmor spy and by selling the spices to Eyla and Sifnar, he'd completed his task and left.

"Sorry," Hillevi apologized. Minerva smiled and turned to leave. 

"Excuse me, Minerva?"

She stopped to find a young man with a cloak and hood talking to her. She addressed him with a nod and he took out three letters which she accepted from him, and without saying anything he left.

Defeated, Minerva decided to head to Hjerim to read the letters and spend a little time with Sofie. She was inside quickly and was warmly greeted by Sofie and Nora, and was spending some time with them before she headed upstairs.

The master bedroom was flawless, as was the rest of the house. Looking at the clean room made her smile and she sighed in content as she took her seat at the desk, opening the first letter.

_ Meet me in Riverwood. This will take longer to finish. _

_ D _

She folded the letter and threw it on the desk, sighing. She would head to Riverwood but she first needed to finish her things in Windhelm. 

Curiously she opened the second letter.

_ I've received your letter and packed everything necessary. We're ready whenever you send the carriage. We're both fine. _

_ Lydia _

The letter pulled Minerva's lips into a smile. Lydia was always straight forward and never danced around the issue. Minerva still needed to arrange a carriage for them, but would do so as soon as she found the time to.

She folded the letter and threw it next to Delphine's, and with her brows furrowed she opened the third letter. She couldn't recognize the handwriting, but continued to read nonetheless.

_ I hope you are well and out of bed. I didn't receive any news yet and not knowing is weighing heavily on my soul. If you read this, I hope you can forgive me. I never meant to hurt you. I hope to see you soon so that I can apologize personally. _

_ Take care, _

_ Ralof _

Annoyed, she folded the letter and threw it next to the others. Of course he didn't know if she was awake yet, she'd refrained from getting in touch with him. She wasn't even certain if she wished to see him again. Thinking about him made her stomach turn unpleasantly, as if she was disgusted by him. She couldn't understand why she felt that way because she'd been the one who had overreacted. Perhaps she was disgusted by herself?

Right now, she didn't want to think of him, everything seemed much more complicated whenever he crossed her mind. She admitted she'd developed feelings for him, but since their argument those feelings had diminished. The times they'd slept with one another crossed her mind from time to time, but they didn't make her feel any more thrilled to see him than they did before. Ralof was a good man, she knew he had a pure soul, but somehow that wasn't enough.

She also knew they would eventually see each other again and she didn't look forward to that encounter.

She shook her head and freed her mind from Ralof and everything regarding him before she stood up, and headed downstairs. She spent the next couple of hours with Sofie and Nora, only removing her boots and gauntlets so she could enjoy the sweets Nora prepared earlier. She didn't know how much time had passed but was surprised to find the sun already setting.

When a knock sounded on the door she grew even more surprised. She slid on her boots without securing the leather straps and hurried for the door. A Stormcloak guard appeared in her view when she opened the door.

He bowed his head and smiled faintly as he greeted, “Good evening, lady Dragonborn."

"Good evening."

"The Jarl's steward has sent me."

She became alert with his revelation, asking, "What happened? Was there another assault?!"

Thankfully, the guard shook his head, "No, my lady. But the Jarl seems better and the steward has sent me to bring you to him, to have a look."

"Alright," she sighed, "I'll be ready in a minute."

"Of course."

Minerva closed the door and crouched to tighten the leather straps on the boots. She gathered her gauntlets from the table and informed Nora she would head to the palace and would probably miss dinner. Sofie kissed her cheek and told her to take care, pulling Minerva's lips into a smile as she left.

The guard escorted her to the palace, their walk accompanied with a comfortable silence. They reached the palace quickly and Jorleif spotted them as soon as they entered. Minerva gave him a quick update about what she'd found out earlier, told him about the spices and the mysterious Imperial, and a frown darkened his face. He then told the guard to escort her to the Jarl's room. It didn't take them long to reach the Jarl's quarters and the guard opened the door for her, allowing her to step inside first.

Her eyes fell on the bed, expecting to find the Jarl laying there but was surprised to find it empty. Instead, he was standing by the windows, his attention from the outside now pulled to them.

The guard followed her inside, but the Jarl dismissed him with a sharp, “Leave us.”

A deathly silence filled the room after the guard closed the door, leaving the two alone. Minerva held her head high as she approached him, taking in his form shamelessly.

“You should rest, my Jarl,” she stated calmly, erasing the rest of the distance between them. She took in his complexion as she stopped in front of him and noticed he looked indeed better.

Silently he let his eyes wander over her body and she blinked at his bluntness. She was happy that she chose to wear her armor so he couldn’t see past it, and decided to disregard the way he looked at her as she wondered, “How do you feel?"

He stretched his neck as he breathed out, “Better than the days before,” and he took a small step in her direction, as if they weren't forbiddingly close already.

Minerva's heart started to race at their proximity, she swallowed her nervousness as she tried to keep her thoughts straight and calm, and tried to remain unfazed by the fact he was standing right in front of her.

“Still, you should rest for the next couple of hours. Your body needs to process the poison and recover.”

"Poison?" he sounded surprised and suspicious of her revelation.

Minerva nodded, "Aye, we suspect your meals have been poisoned. Eyla and Sifnar bought spices from an Imperial and unknowingly poisoned your meals. I assume the Imperial is working for the Thalmor and someone else has used the windows to enter your room."

"I was in a maze," he added, realization dawning upon him. "There was a cloaked figure, stabbing me several times and I couldn't defend myself. Where is the Imperial?!"

"He's gone. He left as soon as he sold the spices to them."

"So… Eyla didn't try to kill me."

It wasn't a question, he was rubbing the fact in her face. She could hear the smirk from miles away even though he appeared serious.

She looked at him, a warning in her voice when she admitted, "I still do not trust her."

She was annoyed when she lowered her eyes to his chest as she removed her gauntlets and placed them on the windowsill, wondering, “May I have a look?" wanting to get this over with quickly. She only wanted to make sure that she healed everything properly.

The Jarl remained silent for a while but she could feel his eyes freely roaming her face, as if he waited for something. It felt like ages passed until he finally moved; he grabbed the hem of the shirt he wore and pulled it up above his head. The torso of the Bear of Markarth was exposed and it took her entire willpower not to gawk or drool over him.

She had seen his torso when she'd healed his wounds before, but there was too much going on for her to really admire him. Now as they were alone in his quarter's, she could stare at it and admire his build. She knew she looked unaffected by him, but her heart beat in all directions and her mouth watered.

She tried to convince herself he wasn't handsome, but as she lifted her hands towards his stomach she realised that lie would quickly fade.

The Jarl was well trained, there were several small scars on his skin, each with their own story. Minerva swallowed the gasp when her cold fingers touched his stomach. He was so warm, the muscles underneath her palms were as hard as stone but his skin was unbelievably soft. Her fingers moved over his skin slowly as she searched for any internal injuries possibly caused by the poison, but concentrating became harder the more flesh she explored.

“You saved my life,” he spoke suddenly, his voice a little too intimate for the moment.

Minerva kept her head in the game even though her heart threatened to explode as she commented, “You command the rebellion, and you're the Jarl of a hold. We cannot allow the Thalmor to succeed."

Her fingers moved over the soft skin and the patch of chest hair, her heart beating so loud she was certain even he could hear it. Her nervousness grew and her hands started to tremble as she leaned her palms flat against his skin, feeling the muscle and bones of his ribs.

“The divines must have sent you to me."

The statement pulled her eyes to his and everything around them became non existent. Her hands remained glued to his skin as her wide, pale green eyes ran over his face bluntly.

She couldn't stop herself from wondering, "Do you believe in fate?" and noticed how raw her voice sounded.

He held her gaze when he admitted, "I believe that every stage of my life, everything that happened, has brought me here." He silenced for a heartbeat, then added, "We are both here because of what we have survived."

Minerva was fully aware of the way he was looking at her, like a man captivated by the being standing in front of him; a man who was looking at the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Blinking, she finally managed to break the spell and lowered her gaze to her hands as she resumed searching. It was obvious he was fine, that she didn't need to look further because there were no wounds, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to stop. It felt as though her hands were glued to his skin, as though she was unable to move away from him. A spell had befallen both of them, one she didn't know what to think of.

“My Jarl,” she spoke finally and withdrew her hands, her voice raw and small, the moisture gone from her mouth, “You are recovering well, but do not strain yourself.”

It took her a second to realize he'd cupped her chin with his forefingers. He moved her face up, forcing her to look into his eyes. His thumb was just below her lower lip, she could feel the tip of it on the edge of her lips. She couldn't move or blink, she was afraid to breathe as she stared right back at him.

“I have a name,” he spoke softly, yet she couldn't ignore the order behind his words as he added, “I want you to use it.”

"Doing so would be inappropriate," she whispered back automatically.

He was unfazed by her statement and stubbornly countered, "I say what is inappropriate."

She was speechless. It scared her to realize he could do almost everything to her and she would have no strength to resist him. Minerva wasn't normally like this, she could put men into their place and reject them. But not Jarl Ulfric. He was no ordinary man.

However, thinking of doing something forbidden with him made her head spin. Only a few seconds had passed with them staring at each other like this, but it felt like a lifetime. Minerva could imprint his irises to her memory, could even count the wrinkles around his eyes. Divines but he had beautiful eyes, and he was handsome.

Whatever spell had befallen them both broke when a soft knock sounded from the door. He withdrew his hand and straightened up, and Minerva couldn't help but divert her eyes at his torso. Her mouth watered at the thought of licking every little muscle to the inviting patch of dark blonde hair just under his belly button.

“Yes?!” the Jarl demanded, sounding beyond irritated. The air between them shifted because of his loud, irritated voice.

Whoever had entered informed plainly, "Brunwulf Free-Winter is in the great hall and demanding to speak with you."

The Jarl looked as though he would explode, his jaw was working and temple pulsing, but he silently nodded. Minerva decided it was time to leave so she spun around and headed for the door past the guard. Never did she run away from someone like this before, but she couldn't help herself. What had happened mere moments ago felt wrong, forbidden, as though she would hurt herself by staying. His presence was suffocating her for an unknown reason. Yet, she felt as though she belonged here, with him.

Once in the great hall she noticed Brunwulf standing near the throne, arms crossed and face tight. She wondered what he wanted to discuss with the Jarl.

When she stepped out in the courtyard, she pulled the cloak tight around her neck and noticed her bare hands.

She cursed inwardly and ground her teeth in irritation. She'd left them on the windowsill in the Jarl's quarters. As much as she wanted to get them back, she wouldn't go back to him, not after what had transpired. She would get them back another time.

Minerva headed back to Hjerim and found Nora clearing the table. It made her wonder just how much time had passed since she left.

Nora asked if she wished to eat, but Minerva refused and headed upstairs to her room, stripping off her armor once she was inside. The Jarl was on her mind even as she lay in bed, wishing for sleep to claim her even though she was too nervous. It was good that the guard had arrived when he did because she dared not to think what would have happened if they remained alone.

She dared to take a glimpse of the possible outcome and ventured deep into a fantasy of hers. A fantasy where the guard had not arrived and where the Jarl had taken the opportunity and kissed her.

She stopped right there and shook her head, and pulled the blanket up to her chin as she shut her eyes. She refused to think of him for the rest of the night, but somehow he always managed to flash before her mind's eye.


	20. Rapprochement

The next morning she woke up more exhausted than she was the night before. Sleep had evaded her and when it finally claimed her it was just before dawn. She was grumpy when she stood from bed in the morning and even more so when she started packing everything she needed for the journey ahead. There was no telling how long she would be absent and she needed to make sure she got everything.

Also, she needed to inform Jarl Ulfric of her absence. She thought of leaving without telling anyone, but somehow it felt wrong. As much as she hated the thought of seeing him again, she knew leaving without telling him wouldn't sit well with him. To know she even cared about what he would think frustrated her beyond words.

She closed the bag and exhaled, her head felt as though a mammoth sat on it, an omen to an incoming headache. Surely there had to be a potion somewhere in the drawer which could mend the headache a little. If not she would have to ask Nora if she had one.

Luckily she found said potion and she drowned its contents eagerly, then went to put on her ebony armor. Her gauntlets were still in the Jarl's quarters, hopefully he didn't discard them, and she made a mental note to ask him to get them back. Once every little strap was secured, she tightened the bag around her waist and put on the cloak before she headed downstairs. Her boots thudded with each step which pulled the attention of both Nora and Sofie sitting on the table in the hall. 

"Hey Min," Sofie greeted, and it amused Minerva because she'd chosen the same nickname as Lucia had, even though the two had never seen each other.

She smiled, "Be a good girl and listen to Nora, okay?"

Sofie slid off the chair and hurried to her as Minerva crouched, then accepted her hug. "Be careful, Min," she spoke and it pulled Minerva's lips into a smile.

When they broke apart, Minerva kept her hands on Sofie's upper arms, committing her face to memory before she stood.

Averting her attention to Nora, she stated, “This will take a while so don't worry if I don't send any letters.”

Nora nodded, "Don't worry Minerva, your home is in good hands. Take care, and may the gods watch over you."

Minerva said her goodbyes before she headed out, closing the door behind her. It was snowing as she made her way towards the palace, her gut clenched as though she would vomit any second. The headache dissipated a bit thanks to the cold air and the potion, but the feeling of sickness remained. It was all because of the Jarl and what had transpired in his quarters last night.

There was no denying that the Jarl was a handsome man, and no amount of lies could convince her of the opposite. She'd entertained thoughts of them in bed together, with her legs wrapped around him and her nails dug into his shoulders. It was what had kept her awake last night.

But there was no force in the world which would make her openly admit such thoughts. Thinking about the Jarl of a hold like this felt wrong, it made her feel like a whore rather than a grown, collected woman. The thoughts did her no good, it would make the encounter with him only more awkward.

The guards at the palace entrance both acknowledged her with a nod as they opened the gate for her, and Minerva's stomach did a strange flip as she noticed the Jarl on his throne. He was talking to Jorleif and a handful of guards, but their voices died as soon as she came closer. It made her all the more curious about what they were talking about 

"Dragonborn," the Jarl greeted, sounding a bit cheerful as the guards dispersed, "To what do I owe this visit?"

Minerva couldn't explain the feelings raging inside of her, it was a mixture of both irritation and anger and anxiety, yet as he kept looking at her she remembered the color and shape of his eyes, and the memory of them calmed her. She took a deep breath, she didn't want to feel like this so she instead focused on why she was here. 

Minerva bowed her head to him, then admitted, “I'm afraid I will have to leave your services for a while, my Jarl.”

His brows furrowed and his eyes ran across her face, as if the reason behind her departure was written on it. Something clicked behind his eyes and Minerva knew he knew.

“No doubt to resume your quest in destroying the World-Eater,” he summarized, but didn't wait for her answer as he stood up. “But let's discuss this," he took the few stairs and moved past her. She immediately caught the scent of wood and leather as he brushed past her towards the war room.

Silently she followed him and hoped with all her heart they would stop in the war room. How she wished the ground would swallow her once she realized he was leading her to the upper levels.

Minerva watched his back as she followed, she was both intrigued and irritated by him and his interest in her quest to slay Alduin. It was no secret that she was Dragonborn and that she was destined to kill Alduin. So why would he have the need to talk to her about it? She couldn't understand it.

He opened the door to his quarters and gave her enough space for her to enter first. He followed as soon as she was inside, pulling the door close. The same silence as from a day ago settled in the room. She didn't know what to make of this situation and was expecting anything to happen because even now she couldn't read him.

The Jarl went to the wardrobe on the other end of the room, opened the drawer and took something out before he walked back to the desk. He placed the slender object wrapped in linens on the desk then took the seat, leaning his hands flat on the surface as he leaned back comfortably.

“Jorleif told me you talked to the Dunmer."

Tension weighed on her shoulders at his remark, she couldn't make out whether he was unnerved or unfazed by the fact. She watched him without saying a word, her body tense as though it was ready to fight. She would give a thousand septims to know what he was thinking so she could know what to add to it.

He leaned forward and entwined his hands in front of him, his elbows holding up his weight as he regarded her fully.

"And?" he merely said.

She guessed he wanted her to tell him what the Dunmer had told her. "They have voiced their dismay for the way they are treated by the Nords."

"Dismay…" he smiled faintly and chuckled, leaning back into his seat as he looked away. He arched his eyebrows when he looked back at her, looking curious when he wondered, "And what is it they want?"

She couldn't tell whether he was messing with her or if he was genuinely curious. She hated tapping in the dark. "Equality," she simply stated. 

He nodded for a few heartbeats, his brows furrowed as he considered what she said. His face was tight when he looked at her, inquiring, "What do you propose?"

Minerva was certain he was messing with her, but she decided to play along. What other choice did she have? So she told him exactly what she had in mind. "To show them a little more support. They are potential allies, their magic could come in handy against the Thalmor. Also, they are remarkable spies which we could use to our advantage." 

He listened to every word carefully and he looked as though he considered her suggestions. However, she wouldn't let her hopes go too high, he was unpredictable and there was no way she could guess the outcome, nor did she think he would decide in favor of the Dunmer.

"What have the Dunmer done to contribute to our society?"

The question hung in the air between them and Minerva didn't know how to answer it. There was no way she could know the answer to it because she wasn't living in Windhelm. Perhaps the Nords had a reason to dislike them, a reason beyond their plain racism?

Jarl Ulfric looked irritated when he elaborated, "They are free to worship whatever god they are inclined to, they are free to work for their fortune. And what do they do?" He stood from the chair and rounded the table to stand in front of her. Thankfully, there was at least a little distance between them.

"They have locked themselves away in  _ their  _ part of the city, they have nothing better to do than complain of how disrespectful they are being treated. I can count the few Dunmer who are working hard to earn their pay and our respect."

"They cannot contribute to anything if they are treated like dirt," she remarked, standing as tall as she could and bravely facing him.

It pulled his lips into a challenging smile, one that pulled at her nerves. She wanted to slap him.

His gaze sharpened when he continued, "Not a single Dunmer has dared to take the stairs to the palace and give voice to their problems personally!"

"It is because they think you do not care!" she countered. "Because they think you only care about the Nords and their problems!"

He looked as though he would explode and was holding back his outburst with his entire strength. He was succeeding, even though he breathed heavily through his flared nostrils and looked angry.

The subject got her all worked up and she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She didn't want to provoke him further but she wanted to make him see that not everything was the Dunmer’s fault.

Her voice was calm and collected when she added, "Nords are harassing innocent Dunmer, their homes are being destroyed and the guards turn a blind eye on them. The Dunmer wish to receive help when they ask for it. They see your ignorance to their problems, so why should they care about your problems?"

Minerva expected him to send her out, expecting even another outburst from him. Surprisingly he remained calm and she noticed his breathing calmed as well. Even the tension left the room and she took it as a good sign.

He looked at something behind her, and was deeply immersed in his thoughts. A few heartbeats passed before he headed back to the desk, turning his back to her. He remained like this, his hands moving as he unfolded the linens.

He sounded much calmer when he admitted, "I will abide to their request, but do not think it will come without a price."

"Thank you," Minerva was surprised to find him agreeing to this at all, but was relieved nonetheless. It will take time for the Dunmer to believe the Jarl, but they will eventually.

The Jarl glanced at her behind his shoulder for a second, but returned his focus on the object in front of him. She really wanted to know what he was hiding from her.

"But there is a reason you're here," he admitted and Minerva held her breath. He turned to face her with the object presented to her; it was a sword, secured in its holster.

His voice was low when he spoke, “Word carries throughout the city that the Dragonborn has a kind heart, helping those in need and punishing those deserving of it. The people praise your name and welcome you into the city, Dragonborn. They are proud to call you a citizen of Windhelm.” He silenced then, and his voice turned even softer when he continued, “And you have saved my life. For that I thank you, Dragonborn, and by my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Eastmarch."

He held the sword with both his hands, waiting for her to take it, and Minerva let her eyes run over the weapon. Reluctantly she stepped closer and wrapped her fingers around the hilt. As she lifted the weapon, she found it as light as a feather.

"What kind of metal is this?" she wondered as she unsheathed the sword. It was a light, silvery metal, but nothing she had ever seen before. The engravings were beautiful and went from the hilt up to the tip of the blade. 

“Mithril,” he admitted. Surprised, she averted her eyes to him and he explained further, “This sword dates back to the time when Ysgramor lived. It has been in my family for generations.”

She considered his words, her eyes once again admiring the beauty of the weapon. It would be an honor to wield the sword, but it was an heirloom, something he'd received from his father. She couldn't take it.

“I cannot accept this,” she stated as she looked back at him, and watched how his brows furrowed.

“You can, and you will,” he stated somewhat irritated. “Use it to slay as many enemies as possible. The sword belongs in the battlefield."

Even though he'd given her the sword, the fact didn't sit quite well with her. He'd already given her so much, now he was expecting her to take something as valuable as this. As hard as it was, she knew she had to accept because there was no room for negotiations.

She turned away from the Jarl to give the sword a few swings. It was perfect, the hilt rested perfectly in her hand as though it was made for her. The weapons she wielded were nothing compared to this; Nord weapons were heavy, Mithril was a feather light metal but was just as strong as her ebony weapons.

She spun around, testing the blade however she knew, swinging it from left to right, up and down, and was certainly happy to call it hers.

She watched the blade in her hand and couldn't help but admire the immaculate state of it; there were no scratches on it, no signs that the blade had ever been used.

“The blade is magnificent,” she murmured before she turned to the Jarl, an euphoric smile stretching her lips. “Thank you."

He didn't say anything and smiled, just watched the sword in her hand. Minerva couldn’t remember a time he smiled like this, but he looked more carefree, more relaxed. But when their eyes met his smile died, and back was the usual expressionless facade of the Jarl.

“How long will your associates require your presence?” he changed the subject and Minerva sheathed the sword next to Dawnbreaker before walking close to him.

“The Blades,” she revealed, then went on to answer his question, “Last time, we've found one of the last remaining members of the Blades, and he is searching for something called Alduin's Wall. It should help us discover how to defeat Alduin.”

“The Blades…” the Jarl repeated thoughtfully as he folded the linens. With the task done, he threw them over the nearby chair, then turned to face her completely. “A name I haven’t heard in a very long time. This is vital information, Dragonborn, one you shouldn't share lightly. To no one.”

There was a warning in his voice as his eyes narrowed, but Minerva found that she could tell the Jarl anything. After everything he'd done for her, she couldn't help but feel as though she could trust him.

“I trust you,” she simply stated, and watched the curiosity spark behind his eyes.

“How so?”

She shrugged, watching her foot as she tapped her toes to the floor. “I think you've done enough to prove you can be trusted. Even though I don't know why you've helped me."

She was honest and hoped her honesty wouldn't provoke him. She guessed he'd helped her because she was the Dragonborn, but somehow she couldn't quite accept the fact. Something was telling her that there was more to it even though the thought seemed surreal.

The Jarl erased what little space was between them and gently took her bare hands in his. Minerva froze. The movement was so sudden and unexpected, she inhaled sharply when his warm hands enveloped hers.

The Jarl kept his eyes on their entwined hands, and Minerva glanced briefly at the huge ring on his ring finger, carrying the emblem of Windhelm.

He didn't look up when he admitted, “Skyrim’s people are blinded by war and Imperial coin, too consumed by their own greed and envy to truly comprehend the return of the Dragonborn. They are either too lazy or do not care to acknowledge the Black Winged dragon. The civil war is important, but slaying the World-Eater takes the utmost priority. And that is why I am helping you, Dragonborn.”

He looked into her eyes then and Minerva was completely enraptured by him.

“But you didn't answer my question,” he reminded her, and Minerva had to blink twice at the demand.

“Perhaps several weeks,” she managed to speak, though concentrating became harder because he refused to look anywhere else. “Perhaps a few months. I'm not certain.”

“Hmm…” he hummed thoughtfully. For a second his gaze flickered to her lips. Her heart threatened to burst in her chest.

She could recognize the look of lust and desire from miles away. The idea that the Jarl of Windhelm entertained such thoughts was surreal to her, despite the evidence standing right in front of her.

“The soldier's will notice your absence among their ranks,” he whispered. Even though what he'd said wasn't even remotely romantic, the thoughtful note in his voice made her knees go weak.

“You said it before, my Jarl,” she spoke lowly, her eyes running across his face as she reminded him of the importance of her destiny. “Defeating Alduin is our main concern.”

He didn't look like himself, his gaze darkened to the point she barely recognized him. His face inched closer, agonizingly slow she barely noticed it. She barely breathed and was completely trapped in his brown eyes.

"I told you to use my name," he whispered, the order loud in his calm voice.

She stilled completely. There was no doubt he was going to kiss her but she had a hard time wrapping her head around it. The entire situation felt surreal, as though she would wake up from a dream any moment.

He'd again demanded to call him by his name. Who was she to deny his request?

“As you wish… Ulfric,” she whispered, and his lips descended on hers.

He let go of her hands and leaned one on her hip, the other found its way behind her neck, not allowing her to escape. Her eyes fell shut and she grabbed a handful of his attire to hold steady. He kissed her twice before he bit her lower lip. Her mouth opened and she welcomed his tongue with her own.

Minerva was trapped between his hands as he expertly kissed her, savouring each of her strangled breaths. But Talos, that man was greedy; she barely managed to catch her breath before his tongue would assault her again, taking away what little air she managed to inhale. She wanted to break free of his hold, yet she wanted more, yet her mind screamed at her for allowing him to wrap her around his little finger so easily without her putting up a fight. 

She despised him for having such control over her, even if she wanted to break free from him she wouldn't be able to. She despised him even more when he slowly broke the kiss and pulled away. It ended too soon.

“I believe you have a task to fulfill,” he murmured, their noses touching.

Although her mind was still in a maze, she managed to find enough composure to take a step away from his too alluring warmth.

“You're right,” she said before she cleared her throat. Thankfully, she remembered the other reason why she decided to visit him. "My gauntlets…"

He turned his back to her and headed to the same windowsill she'd left them the night before, then returned to her. It didn't surprise her that he secured both of the gauntlets to her hands, as though she was incapable of doing so on her own. Still, she couldn't help but admire the gentleness with which he treated her, as though he had a pure soul and had never killed anyone in his life. 

“Thank you,” she spoke lowly.

He nodded, his features tight as he blessed her, "Talos guide you, Dragonborn."

"You as well… Ulfric," she whispered. He inhaled deeply as his gaze softened. 

Before she headed for the door she bowed her head in farewell. She knew he watched her all the while she walked, she felt the weight of his gaze pressing on her back as though she'd carried a heavy weight on it. To know he was watching excited her and she added an extra sway to her hips.

Gently she closed the door behind her once she was in the hallway. She exhaled deeply to calm her heartbeat, but it only intensified when the impact of the earlier moment hit her. Her steps carried her swiftly towards the exit, out into the cold and filled streets, as though something was haunting her and she was trying to get away from it. The closer she came to the city gates, the more confused she became as questions arose in her mind.

Why did he kiss her? Why was he helping her and giving everything he could without asking for anything in return?

Admittedly, she knew the answer to the latter, he'd explained he was aware of the importance of slaying Alduin and only wished to help however he could. That didn't explain why he'd decided to kiss her. She didn't know what to make of it and knew it would rest heavily on her mind until she received a proper explanation.

The next few tasks would keep her occupied and sadly, they would keep her away from Windhelm. But maybe it was exactly what she needed to focus on her upcoming task. Slaying the World-Eater would be no easy thing to do and she needed her entire focus.

Although she knew the Jarl would cross her mind, more than she would ever like to admit.

####

_ Month’s later… _

Sighing, she opened her eyes as the soft breeze feathered across her face, carrying the various scents of the surrounding flora. She was laying on the grass, staring out into the open sky. It was a wonderful summer day, and she decided to take a minute and savor the beauty of nature before she would continue her journey.

The past few months had been a whirlwind; she'd helped Brynjolf climb the ranks of master thief. She had no desire to be part of the Thieves Guild further, but Brynjolf promised he would aid her whenever she needed.

She'd left the Skeleton Key to him. Minerva didn't want to have anything to do with the daedra and after some convincing, he promised he would return the key to its rightful place. Karliah was very displeased with it, and wanted Minerva to be the one to return the key. Thankfully, Brynjolf agreed.

Also, she'd met the master of the Greybeards, Paarthurnax, and had been more than surprised to find out it was a dragon. He promised to help her, however, and revealed she needed to use an Elder Scroll to learn a Shout which could help her defeat Alduin. She was still searching for it and dreaded it would take her a long time to find it.

Shaking her head free from the thoughts she stood up, ready to continue her journey. She passed a few Stormcloak soldiers on the main road, they greeted her with a loud roar and with their weapons raised to the air. She asked them about the war, and one of the soldiers removed their helmet to reveal the dark blue, almost black skin. Minerva’s eyes widened.

“Hello, lady,” the Dunmer said and Minerva immediately recognized him; she'd saved him from Rolff and his group so many months ago.

Minerva's smile widened, “I'm surprised to see you with Stormcloak armor,” she remarked to which the Dunmer smiled.

“My brother and I promised to join the rebellion as soon as Rolff and his group paid for their crimes. Surprisingly, it happened not long after you've helped us."

Another Stormcloak approached and removed his helmet, revealing another Dunmer underneath. “I suppose we should thank you, fair lady. It certainly feels better to fight for something rather than complain all day.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she admitted, then couldn't help but ask, “How is the situation in Windhelm, now?"

One of the Dunmer sighed, "It's gradually getting better, though there are still things to be improved. But the guards intervene as soon as there is a problem and the Jarl is willing to invest in the Grey Quarters."

Minerva nodded but highly doubted the Jarl changed his thoughts out of sheer kindness. He'd said it before, that their acceptance wouldn't come without a price. Perhaps the price was fighting for the rebellion?

“Where are you heading to?” she wondered.

“To our camp in the Reach. We have orders to rid a few Imperial camps and claim them as our own."

Minerva nodded, and though she wished to help she couldn't abandon her own quest. As the Jarl of Windhelm said himself, destroying Alduin takes the utmost priority.

“Come on, brother, we have to go,” said one of the Dunmer before the two turned to her. “Safe journey, fair lady.”

Minerva gave a nod. “To you as well. May the Gods watch over you.”

The two gave her a nod in farewell before they hurried to catch up with the rest of the group.

Minerva watched them leave, her mind involuntarily drifting to the Jarl of Windhelm. She was delighted to see the Dunmer fighting for the Stormcloaks, but that also made a question arise in her mind.

Was the rebellion low on soldier’s that the Jarl had to accept just  _ anyone  _ into their ranks? Or did the Jarl have a change of heart and recognized the Dunmer's value? Whatever the answer, Minerva couldn't dwell on it. She had her own battles to win, the Jarl would have to fight his battles alone for now.

Her hand flew to her chest, to where his letter was safely hidden, and she couldn’t resist it; she took the letter from the hidden pocket in her armor and opened it, and the strange feeling settled in her gut again.

_ Dragonborn, _

_ The weight of your deeds carry all over Skyrim. Many able bodied men and women have joined our cause, and while they did not name their personal reasons, they all agreed they joined because of the Dragonborn. Galmar sent me a letter, it stated the group of healers and mages have safely reached our camp in the Reach. He is still suspicious of their magic and motives, but admitted their skills would greatly improve our chance to win this war. _

Minerva had saved a group of mages trapped by bandits, and they agreed to fight for the war. She'd directed them to Windhelm and it seemed the general was already putting them to good use. She continued.

_ I am greatly in your debt, Dragonborn, and I highly doubt there is anything I could give you that would match the number of deeds you have done for our favor. I have something in mind, though it won't be as equally heroic as what you did for our cause. Thank you, Dragonborn, and know that our soldiers highly anticipate your return among their ranks. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Jarl Ulfric _

Minerva folded the letter again and hid it in the same pocket. She hadn't had the chance to send her reply to the Jarl even though she was a bit hesitant to do so. He'd managed to spark her curiosity with his promised gift for her achievements, and many times she debated what he could possibly give her.

There were times she thought about their kiss and wondered whether he wanted to continue where the two had left off, but she would quickly banish such thoughts. She didn't even know what to make of the kiss they'd shared, but to think the Jarl could be interested in her seemed very unlikely. Minerva considered herself beautiful, but in no way could she imagine the Jarl falling for her.

Dwelling on it wouldn't change anything so she decided to head for the nearest town or inn, whatever she would find on her way to get some rest. For a while she followed the Stormcloaks and smiled at the banter between them. The Nords were still hesitant of the Dunmer, but a few of them conversed with each other.

An hour or two passed before she left the main road and walked into the forest, ready to hunt. A rabbit or two would be enough for her to eat in case she had to sleep in the wilderness.

The sky darkened as time passed, a nearby thunder cracked through the heavens and she frowned, hurrying her steps to find shelter. The divines were smiling on her as she found a small tent. The campfire was still warm, but the fire died, and she wondered whether this belonged to a hunter or a bandit.

A few drops of rain landed on her face and she decided to crawl inside the tent, holding the Mithril sword close as she sat on the bedroll with her legs crossed. The tent was larger than she needed, but it would suffice until the rain stopped.

The heavy rain blocked the sounds around her, she didn't hear the person moving from behind the tent to stand in front of her. When she noticed them it was already too late. Minerva gripped the sword but refused to attack, waiting with her breath held as the person crouched before the entrance. Maybe they were friendly?

Judging from their built it was a man, the furs of wolves and bears were draped over him blocking any cold or rain. His face was hidden behind a hood and he moved it back to reveal his face.

Minerva was certain the divines were playing with her. Instantly she wished she never entered the tent, if she knew she would meet him here she would rather be cold and drenched then having to face him.

Wordlessly he crouched and took a seat in the free space next to her. Minerva scooped away from him and lowered her head. The wish to get away was persistent, but something held her back.

She could feel his gaze on her profile as she focused hers on the ground below her. A thunder cracked again, this time much closer. She pulled the cloak tighter around her neck, thankfully she was well dressed and had several layers of clothes underneath her armor.

"I assume this is your tent?" she spoke lowly, not looking up.

He sighed, "I've built it a few days ago. There is a lot of game here to hunt."

"Don't worry, I'll leave as soon as the rain stops."

She could guess the statement didn't sit quite well with him.

"You don't have to," he sighed.

Minerva looked at him; his blonde hair was much longer, now falling down his shoulders and reaching his biceps. The smudged charcoal around his eyes only intensified his blue irises. They looked like they were glowing in the shadows. His face looked tight and as though he didn't get enough sleep, and his beard had grown.

Despite everything, he looked more handsome than she ever remembered. She blushed at how intensely he watched her.

For a moment none of them spoke, the rain intensified and the thunder sounded more often. She entertained the thought of using the Clear Skies shout to escape him, but she would wait and see how the situation unfolded further.

"I want to apologize," he admitted, his voice slightly above the heavy weather outside. "I truly didn't mean what I said."

"Ralof…" she sighed, folding her knees to her chest.

"The words I chose were wrong," he continued, "What I wanted to say-"

"Stop."

His face froze, fear flashed in his eyes. She shook her head, softening her expression a bit to assure him she wasn't as mad as she'd used to be.

"Honestly, I was the one who has twisted your words. I heard what I wanted to hear, it's not really your fault."

Her words calmed him visibly. She still wasn't as comfortable around him as she once was, but in time she supposed they could return to being whatever they were. It made her wonder if she could ever feel the things again she'd felt towards him.

The rain gradually decreased and once it stopped completely the sun appeared, shining as though it never rained in the first place. Ralof was the first to leave the tent, heading over to a chest to take dry tree branches from it he'd probably collected earlier. He crouched and placed them around the campfire, then looked at her over his shoulder, smiling.

"Could you lend me a hand?" he asked and she headed to him.

She used her fire magic to set the branches ablaze and not a moment later did the fire burn brightly, despite the drenched ashes underneath.

She watched the flames for a moment, trapped in her thoughts. The silence settling between them wasn't comfortable but she didn't know what to talk to him about to break it. Sighing, she decided it would be best to leave.

She stood and he followed, she never tore her gaze from the flames when she admitted, "I'll be on my way, then."

"I have enough to eat if you wish to stay," he informed.

The thought of staying with him made her uncomfortable and she looked at him, an apologetic smile curling her lips.

"I cannot stay, there is much for me to do."

He nodded slowly, the hurt was clearly displayed on his features. She turned her back to him and started to walk. 

"I'm happy to see you, Minerva."

The soft note to his voice made her heart ache and she stopped before she faced him.

Smiling, she admitted, "I'm happy to see you as well," though she couldn't decide whether that was the truth or not. "Why are you here in the first place?" she inquired.

Ralof erased the space between them and standing so close to him made her anxious. He spoke lowly, his features tense, "I helped the boy Aretino in Windhelm, but everything went… completely wrong."

"What happened?" Minerva had heard of the boy and the rumors that he wanted to summon the Dark Brotherhood, but had never looked into it.

Ralof exhaled deeply, looking around as if to make sure they were alone. To see him in such distress made her alarms go off.

He all but whispered, "He mistook me for the Dark Brotherhood and begged me to go to Riften to kill a woman who was unkind to the children in the orphanage. I did so and this is what I received the next morning."

He took out a note with a hand stamped on it, below it said  _ 'We know'.  _

"I'm on my guard since then," he added as he folded the note and put it back inside the pocket of his leather armor.

"Are they after you?"

Ralof shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. I never saw anyone following me, but I never feel alone. Sometimes, I hear the rustle of tree branches and bushes at night, even though there is no wind and no animal."

The news disturbed her, knowing that the Dark Brotherhood might be after him made her nauseous. They weren't on good terms currently, but she would never want Ralof to die.

"Watch yourself," she told him.

He nodded and smiled as he reassured, "They might be assassin's, but I know how to defend myself. Don't worry."

Minerva knew he could fight, but hopefully they would stay clear from him. Even though the news disturbed her, she couldn't stay with him.

"I need to go. Stay sharp, okay?"

She couldn't overlook the melancholic shine in his eyes as he watched her. He looked as though he was holding back whatever he wanted to say, his usually thick lips now a thin line.

After a while, he simply said, "Talos watch over you," before he returned to the campfire.

Minerva watched his back for a short while as he poked the fire, and noticed with anxiety how she yearned for him.

With a heavy sigh, she turned her back to him and resumed her journey. She couldn't ignore how heavy her heart felt the more she walked away from him.

  
  



	21. Facing Doom

“Here you go.”

The bartender said as he handed Minerva a mug of ale. She thanked him, barely able to speak as the headache threatened to split her head in half. It certainly wasn't the best idea to drink ale while she suffered from such a horrendous headache, but she was thirsty and grateful she finally managed to escape Blackreach.

That blasted ruin had kept her underground for days, hungry and thirsty, but it paid off. Or so Minerva wished, at least.

She couldn't resist the call to open the Elder Scroll, so she did as soon as she stepped into Skyrim's wilderness. But the scroll revealed nothing and she wondered whether the scroll would truly help her learn the Shout necessary to slay Alduin.

She winced at the sour taste but took a larger gulp nonetheless. Gods, she needed a rest and a bath, urgently. She closed her eyes, her mind drifting to the comfortable beds in Hjerim and the Palace of the Kings. But with how tired she was, she could barely keep her eyes open.

“Is there a room I could rent?” she asked sleepily.

The bartender nodded, and after he received the gold for the room he guided her to it. Minerva was already on the bed even before the bartender could leave, closing the door behind him and leaving a exhausted Minerva on the bed.

Sleep slowly claimed her tired body even in her uncomfortable armor, but a knock on the door shook her awake. It felt as though barely minutes had passed. She sat up and growled as she made her way to the door, pulling it open a bit forcefully.

“What?!” she bit out irritated.

It took her a second to recognize the courier, and angrily accepted the letter from him before she slammed the door right in his face. Without having the strength to read the letter she threw it on the nightstand before she threw herself on the bed and closed her eyes.

Several hours passed until she woke up, immediately regretting to have slept in her armor. Every bone in her body hurt, her muscles protested with every little movement while she sat up. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned before her eyes rested on the letter.

She noticed the Stormcloak insignia on it and furrowed her brows as she tore it open.

_ Dragonborn, _

_ My hands are shaking as I write this letter. Such fear hasn't engulfed me since I was a lad making my first kill. The World-Eater, Alduin, came to Windhelm, and I stood face to face with the beast. It landed on the city walls and shouted a few houses apart. We were ready to make a stand, but quickly after that I ordered my men to run. No training in the world could suffice to harm the beast. _

_ As we surrendered, the beast directed its eyes at me and spoke in their tongue. The earth trembled as it did so, and I have never been that afraid in my life. But then it flew away, west of Windhelm. Two days later, we received news that the Black Winged dragon attacked Dawnstar. It decimated the city, only a few of the citizens survived, including the Jarl. _

_ I know you are looking for a way to kill it, but I ask you to be swift. To think you are to face the beast alone… watch yourself, Dragonborn. I know slaying Alduin is your destiny, but you were born to reshape the world. The Gods have put us in the same cart that day for a reason. May Talos watch over you. _

_ Ulfric _

She was shocked and at a loss for words as she blankly stared at the letter. She understood its contents, but such news were hard to comprehend.

Alduin had destroyed Dawnstar. Guilt consumed her. If she had been faster, if she had focused more on her destiny-

"No," she sighed sharply into the room. It successfully stopped her mind from venturing further, otherwise the guilt would eat her alive.

She needed to get out of here. She had the scroll necessary to learn Dragonrend, all she needed to do was climb the seven thousand steps, head to the Throat of the World, use the scroll and defeat Alduin. It all sounded so simple, yet it was far from it.

Doubt started to eat away all her courage. She knew there was no room for failure because everything depended on her. Yet, the mere thought of facing Alduin, the Firstborn, terrified her. There was no one to help her, she was forced to face him alone and that thought drowned her courage.

But then she thought of everyone she'd met, of her friends and children, thought of Ralof and his sister, of Ulfric, Nora. She thought of the people of Dawnstar and Windhelm, of the many people who have died because she'd been too slow with her quest.

How dare Alduin attack them? A snarl tensed her features. The fear transformed into rage and suddenly she was more than eager to face him.

She shot from the bed and headed towards the door, and almost bumped into the bartender who was just about to bring her food. She ignored his calls to come back, to eat the food she paid for, and as soon as she was outside she mounted Frost and galloped off towards High Hrothgar.

She couldn't help but think of Ulfric. He was a brave and strong man, but no doubt was he afraid to stand face to face with the World Eater. Anyone, no matter how brave, would be afraid of the beast. He could have died that moment, but Alduin spared him for a reason known only to him.

Many people have lost their lives thanks to Alduin, but Minerva would make sure to avenge them. Her mind was set with purpose to kill the World-Eater, and to bring peace to Skyrim.

_ The Gods have put us in the same cart that day for a reason. _

Ulfric's words replayed in her mind and she couldn't help but wonder if he was true. Destiny brought her to Skyrim to slay the World-Eater, but was she also here to  _ reshape the world?  _ Her eyes darted up and there, in the far distance, she could see the Throat of the World.

Her eyes narrowed as she inhaled deeply. She would slay Alduin tonight, even if it meant losing her own life in the process.

####

No training in the world could have prepared her for this. Alduin's strength was unmatched, his speed otherworldly. Both Alduin and Paarthurnax were superior to every other dragon she'd fought. The two dragons weren't holding back their might as they tried to hurt each other. Dragonrend forced Alduin to land, but her weapons were barely hurting him, as well as her magic.

The battle went on long enough for her to feel her determination start to falter. She used her Shouts against him, her weapons and magic, nothing really helped. She wondered how she was supposed to kill him.

_ "Faas dii mulaag, Paarthurnax! Hi fen frey faal Dovahkiin!" _

_ Fear my strength! You will regret aiding the Dragonborn!  _

Alduin roared before he shouted, and Minerva used Dragonrend again. The World Eater landed not too far from her. She took both her swords, Dawnbreaker and the Mithril blade, and ran towards him.

_ "Fus!"  _ Alduin shouted at her.

It was enough to shout her to the ground, hard. Only one word of power was enough to shout her to the ground and push the air out of her lungs. She didn't dare to think what would have happened to her if he used all three words of power.

It took her a second to realize the snow trembled beneath her and she looked up. She frantically searched for her weapons as she crawled backwards, but found none. Bravely she stared right into Alduin's eyes as he was approaching her.

Her back hit something hard and cold, preventing her further escape, and she summoned her magic in both her hands, ready to unleash her ultimate storm spell. 

Staring at the Black Winged dragon sent her heart racing in fear. She was certain that he would kill her now, but she wouldn't go down without a fight.

“ _ Meyz mul, Dovahkiin _ ," he spoke instead, "You have become strong. But I am  _ Al-du-in _ , Firstborn of Akatosh!  _ Mulaagi zok lot! _ I cannot be slain here, by you or anyone else! You cannot prevail against me. I will outlast you... mortal!”

He roared so loud it almost deafened her before he ascended, fleeing the battlefield. Paarthurnax landed not too far from her and nudged her with his nose, helping her stand.

“ _ Krosis.  _ He is stronger than I remember.” Paarthurnax growled as he followed Alduin with his eyes until he disappeared into the distance.

“I need to go after him,” she stated breathlessly, though she had no idea where the black dragon headed to.

“ _ Vahzah,  _ your journey sadly doesn't end here. You must find another  _ dovah  _ to bring you to him."

Her brows arched as she faced him. Surely he didn't mean what he said? "Another dragon?"

“I do not know where Alduin went," Paarthurnax elaborated, "I cannot take you to him. But many of the dovah have begun to question Alduin's leadership. Only a dovah who is loyal to Alduin can bring you to him."

She had no idea what to make of this, but decided to ask Arngeir in hope he could help her.

“I'll see what I can do,” she commented, then turned to face the elder dragon. “Thank you, Paarthurnax.”

“ _ Zor nel ahrk voth faal Rah, Dovahkiin,”  _ he dismissed her before he flew to the top of the mountain.

Minerva left for High Hrothgar, following the steep path and using Clear Skies whenever the protective mist threatened to swallow her. It didn't take her long until she reached the somewhat warm halls of the Greybeards.

Arngeir greeted her as he sat at the grand table, a mug held between his hands as he regarded her.

"Dragonborn. You return from the battle, but I still feel the World-Eater's power."

"Yes," she sighed as she took a seat not too far from him. "He escaped. I couldn't kill him."

Arngeir looked troubled, "That is… grave news. Where did he escape?"

"I don't know, but Paarthurnax has an idea." To that, Arngeir looked curious and she elaborated further, "He told me of a dragon that would willingly take me to Alduin."

Arngeir thought for a while, his eyes moving to the center of the table. She allowed the man to think in hope he could direct her.

When he looked at her again, she felt hope rising in her chest.

"Yes, the plan might work. However, you will need to speak to the Jarl of Whiterun. Dragonsreach was built to capture and hold a dragon."

"He will never agree to this." She couldn't expect Jarl Vignar agreeing so easily to lure a dragon into the city. After all they were doing everything to keep them out.

Arngeir nodded, "That is understandable, but try to convince him. It is the only way to capture a dragon alive."

At least she knew where to go now. "Thank you, Arngeir."

"Rest here if you must, then make haste to Whiterun."

Minerva stood from the table and headed out of High Hrothgar. As much as she desired some rest, she needed to reach Whiterun as fast as possible. The more she waited and postponed the inevitable, the more power Alduin would gain. Thinking of facing him again made her nauseous.

It took her a couple of hours to reach Ivarstead, Frost was waiting near the end of town and she mounted the patient steed. She trotted off to Whiterun and was wondering whether she would quickly reach the end of her journey. Her destiny was to slay Alduin, whether she survived or not, and only the divines knew if she would live after destroying him.

The sun rose behind the mountains as Whiterun came to her view. She was tired and cold when she dismounted Frost at the stables, yearning to finally reach Breezehome to get some rest.

She all but dragged her feet as she erased the space to her home. When she put the key inside the door and turned the handle, she released a sigh.

The door creaked as she entered, closing it as silently as possible. At the same time, she caught Lydia walking down the stairs, fully dressed in her armor, greatsword on her back.

Minerva furrowed her brows because the housecarl was visibly surprised to see her.

"My thane," Lydia gasped, alarming her even more.

"You're awfully surprised to see me," Minerva remarked, walking closer.

Lydia was nervous and was avoiding her gaze, looking rather on the floor than her.

"Is everything alright?" Minerva wondered.

Lydia had her lower lip between her teeth and she was reluctant to speak. After a while, she met her gaze and there was a spark of determination in them.

"I sent a courier with a letter, but I might as well speak to you now," she admitted, and inhaled deeply before she continued, "I wanted to tell you that I wish to join the army. I know I am your housecarl, but… being one drives me insane. I want to be on the battlefield, liberating Skyrim from the Empire, but-"

"Say no more."

Lydia's face paled when Minerva interrupted her. With a small smile, Minerva erased the little distance between them and looked into her eyes.

"I understand, and I fully support it."

Doubt flashed across her face as Lydia wondered, "Really? You're not mad at me?"

Minerva shook her head, "No. You're a terrific soldier and the Stormcloaks could use your strength. They need everyone able to fight."

Lydia's eyes filled with tears as she looked at Minerva, relief washing over her face. She fully understood her decision to leave and was more than happy to support her, even though she would miss her.

"Thank you," Lydia said with a slight bow and hand to her heart.

Minerva patted her upper arm before the warrior moved past her.

"Lydia," she stopped at Minerva's call and turned to face her. "You can return here whenever you find the need to."

To that she smiled and nodded before she left. An eerie silence filled the house once she closed the door. No fire burned in the hearth and Minerva knelt in front of it to light the fire. The silence wasn't as smothering now that the fire crackled calmly. However, she felt lonely now that the house was empty and knowing it would be so in the future every time she returned rested heavily on her mind.

She stared at the flames and let her thoughts wander. The flames reminded her so much of Alduin's fire. The longer she stared at them, the clearer she could see his red, soulless eyes staring right back at her. His voice and Shouts reflected in her ears, making her heart race. Not for the first time did she wonder how in the world she could defeat him. She was supposed to face him alone with no ally at her side.

She blinked, and the sounds in her ears died and the vision of Alduin's face vanished. She was safe in her home for now, but if she lingered too long there would be no safe place on Nirn left.

She exhaled sharply and stood, deciding to remove her armor and make preparations. There was no time to rest.

####

_ Jarl Ulfric, _

_ Your words have troubled me deeply, but I am relieved to hear the beast has spared you.  _

_ I am close to bringing Alduin down, yet I am struggling. I will require the loyalty of another dragon to reveal Alduin's location. It is the only way to slay the World-Eater, and although I know it is my destiny, the thought of facing him fills me with utter fear. Somewhere along my path, I have lost faith. _

_ As I traveled, I witnessed Alduin decimating a village, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. The villagers screamed in agony until they fell, consumed by the flames and torn apart by his Shouts. The sight still haunts me. _

_ I know I must stay fearless, and I will, for there are things in this world too precious to me to allow Alduin to win. I have been slow and reckless, and innocent people died because of me. I hope the citizens of both Windhelm and Dawnstar can forgive me for not killing Alduin sooner. Soon, this madness will end, and then we will set Skyrim free of the Empire. I promise, Ulfric. _

_ I have received a letter from Nora, it said you brought her and the children to the palace when Alduin arrived. _

_ For what it's worth, you have my eternal gratitude for saving them. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Dragonborn  _

"Jarl Vignar will see you soon," Brill commented as she stood in the great hall of Dragonsreach.

It was enough to pull her head out of the clouds and shame she felt while she remembered the letter she'd sent to Jarl Ulfric a day ago.

"Please, have a seat," Brill directed her to sit at the table near the top.

Minerva took the offered seat and the steward left to do his work. Alone again, she thought about the letter. There were no words to describe how angry she was at herself.

Sadness and despair had claimed her as she'd written the letter in Breezehome two nights ago. She’d been only partially aware of the parchment before her, the quill in her hand, as she’d written the words through teary eyes. She'd given the letter to the first courier she'd met once outside and had told him to deliver it to Windhelm as fast as he could.

She tapped her finger on the table, angry and frustrated. The letter should never have left her home. The things she wrote in it, how she'd lost faith and her courage, should have stayed hidden in her mind. He wasn't supposed to know any of this, but…

She sighed deeply and looked up from the various foods served on the table. He was on her mind often, especially the moment when she'd felt his lips against hers. She couldn't deny that the kiss both intrigued and fascinated her. She could barely think about the next steps of her quest without Ulfric crossing her thoughts. No matter how pleasant it felt to think of him, she admitted she was also frustrated.

He'd done nothing to intrigue her, to make her think of him. Minerva had kissed men before and Ulfric was no different.

However, Ulfric had shown kindness when she expected none, had helped her when she thought he would simply use her for his own benefit. She saw a side of him she never thought to see, would never even think it existed. Perhaps that was the reason she was so fascinated by him, and the reason why her heart beat in all directions just by thinking of him.

"Dragonborn, what a pleasant surprise!"

Vignar's voice boomed from her right and she looked at his direction. He was walking towards her and she stood, accepting the handshake from him.

"Please, help yourself to whatever food you wish," he urged as both took their seats, with Brill sitting on the opposite side of Minerva.

She looked at the delicious food, but had no appetite. She knew she needed to eat, but she couldn't.

"Thank you, Jarl Vignar, but there is an urgent matter to be discussed."

The Jarl poured them ale, nodding. "I understand your haste, Dragonborn, and I promise to help however I can. Now, let's hear it!"

He was occupied with filling the plate with the food as she contemplated ways on how to start the subject. However, she quickly realized she didn't care, so she decided to bluntly tell him.

"Currently, I don't know the location of Alduin. I am forced to interrogate one of the dragons to find out where he went. To do so, I need Dragonsreach to capture said dragon."

Both Vignar and Brill choked a bit on the dried meat they ate. He chuckled, though he sounded hesitant when he said, "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. I heard you say you wanted to capture a dragon here?"

Minerva held the Jarl's gaze, showing she wasn't messing around. "No, that is exactly what I said."

His mouth hung open, completely shocked. It took him a second to gather himself. He didn't sound as amused as from a while ago.

"By Talos, you are serious," he whispered as realization dawned upon him. "You do know that your request puts everyone in the city in danger?!"

"I do, but there is no other way," she urged, leaning forward to make her point. "If Alduin is not stopped everyone is going to die!"

Vignar raised his hand towards her, his face tight. "I'm a man of reason, Dragonborn. I understand, but what you are asking of me is insane!"

Minerva released a long breath, she admitted that yelling wouldn't get her anywhere. "You also know that I wouldn't be asking if there was another way to do this," she admitted, lowering her voice.

Vignar released a long breath and looked at the center of the table, thinking. She feared he was going to turn her down, if that happened she had no idea how to capture the dragon.

It felt like a lifetime passed when Vignar looked at her again. "If we are going to help you, then we need to prepare ourselves the best we can. However, there is another matter."

"What is it?"

Vignar was silent for a while, holding her gaze before he stated, "I will have to pull our guards from the nearby forts and towns to help you, but I cannot leave them vulnerable to the Empire."

She didn't know what he was getting at. "What do you suggest?" she wondered.

"I need some kind of reassurance that the Empire won't dare attack while you are out capturing this dragon. A treaty between the two parties could prevent the bloodshed until you deal with that dragon."

She almost laughed out loud at his idea, even though she recognized how right he was. As much as it sounded coming straight out of a fairy tale, Vignar had a point. Just imagining Tullius and Ulfric in the same room without killing each other seemed surreal.

"Alright. And how shall we achieve that?" she wondered.

Vignar was quick to answer, "Well, first you'll need to talk to them, and they would need to meet on neutral ground. Perhaps the Greybeards could hold the council?"

It could work, but she would have to convince the Greybeards, first. She didn't look forward to climbing the mountain again, but she had no choice.

"Very well," Minerva agreed after a while, "I will talk to the Greybeards, if they agree to hold the council, I will direct both Tullius and Ulfric to the meeting."

"If you succeed," Vignar held her gaze as he spoke, and leaned forward, "I promise you, Dragonborn, to do everything necessary to help you."

Minerva nodded to that and stood up, bowing to Vignar before she headed for the exit of Dragonsreach. Now that she had a plan, a very unpredictable one at that, she knew what to do next.

She walked through the busy streets of Whiterun, greeted Ysolda on her way and stopped to converse with her a bit before she left. Everyone went about their business as she neared Breezehome.

"Dragonborn, there you are!"

Someone out of breath spoke and she turned to find the courier inhaling sharply. He tried to calm himself and catch his breath, she could only wonder how long he'd run to get to her.

He gave her a letter and informed her it was an urgent message from Jarl Ulfric. The young man left after he'd given her the letter and she crossed the remaining steps to her home.

Once inside, she sat in front of the hearth and did nothing but stare at the insignia on the parchment for a few heartbeats. Surely this had to be a reply to her previous letter.

There was no point in delaying to read just how utterly useless and disappointing she was.

She broke the seal and inhaled deeply as his neat handwriting presented itself before her.

_ Dragonborn, _

_ I wasn't expecting to hear from you, but I cannot deny the comfort your letter has brought me. These are dark days, and it is simple to lose oneself in the despair they bring. There comes a time when even the bravest warriors are consumed by a darkness stronger than anything they have faced before. And yet they prevail, because the world depends on them. _

_ The same darkness has consumed me once, as well. It was when my father passed and I was put on the throne. The people expected me to lead them, to know what a Jarl was supposed to do. But they forgot I have never ruled before and my father passed without sharing any knowledge with me. But this is a story for another time. _

_ Sadly, your path is shrouded in darkness, and one you will need to walk alone. My hands are bound, I cannot fight the World-Eater with you, but if there is anything I could provide as Jarl, or if it is soldiers you need, you need only ask. _

_ But, if I remember correctly, it was you who told me to never give up your cause. Remember who you are, what you are fighting for. Remember the Empire needs to be driven out of Skyrim, and remember the Thalmor have to pay. Know there are people who think highly of you, who would follow you through the greatest darkness. You have inspired the hearts of many, Dragonborn, mine included. _

_ I await your return to Windhelm. There are things we must discuss… things too private to be put to paper. But know that the taste of your lips still linger on mine. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Ulfric  _

Hands shaking, she could barely breathe as she blinked to clear her foggy vision. Every word in this letter was the exact opposite of what she'd feared to read. A warmth she'd never felt before engulfed her. His mere words could easily pull the strings of her heart.

Her mind conjured her images of him sitting behind the desk while he wrote this letter. She felt stupid for even thinking like this, but she couldn't suppress whatever this feeling was, slowly swallowing every inch of her mind until she could only think of Ulfric.

Her heartbeat elevated, heat rose to her cheeks as she remembered every word from his letter, all until the last sentence that made her heart skip a beat.

_ The taste of your lips still linger on mine. _

The knowledge the kiss might have had the same effect on him filled her with an incredible warmth, and an unquenchable desire to head to Windhelm immediately. She would see him soon enough, however, as soon as she convinced the Greybeards to hold the council. Somehow, she knew without a doubt that Ulfric would be there.

A strength she hadn't felt in months invigorated her and she stood up, determined to head to High Hrothgar as quickly as possible. 


	22. Nightmare

_ Solitude…  _

Thankfully, the Greybeards agreed to hold the peace council, even though it took some convincing. She admired her surroundings as she walked the streets of Solitude, but she loathed the people in charge who were faithful to the Empire, especially the general now residing in Castle Dour. Minerva still hadn't forgotten Helgen and how she'd almost lost her head because of Tullius.

Her lack of visits to Solitude helped her reach the castle without much struggle because the people didn't recognize her. Otherwise they would surely block her path to the castle.

The Imperial guards near the entrance opened the door for her and she smiled politely at them. Following the sound of arguing voices from down the hallway made her quickly find her target.

Tullius was immersed in a conversation with a Nord woman standing behind the war table, but it died when Minerva stepped through the archway.

Bitter realization narrowed his features when he recognized her. General Tullius was eyeing her from underneath his brows as the armored Nord woman stood next to him, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

“Dragonborn,” he barked as he straightened himself.

“General Tullius,” she greeted blankly, “We meet again.”

“Under different circumstances,” he finished before he crossed his arms. “It is surprising to see you here, instead of helping the Jarl of Windhelm slaughter my men.” The bitterness rang loudly in his voice and matched the snarl darkening his face.

She remained calm and ignored his rant for now as she clarified, “Currently, I have a battle of my own to face." Minerva decided to cut the conversation and instead focus on why she was here. “I'm not here to discuss the rebellion, general. I’m here because the Greybeard's have sent me.”

Every sign of hostility left his features at the mention of the Greybeard's, but he didn't seem impressed.

“The Greybeard's?” he repeated disinterested, and the warrior woman next to him shifted.

“They don’t usually intervene with the matters of the outside world,” the woman spoke, “Why now?”

"Because I am forced to trap a dragon at Dragonsreach, and the Jarl of Whiterun won't agree to this until the war wages. He wants temporary peace and that is why the Greybeard's are organizing a peace council.”

Tullius snorted, “Peace? You're talking to the wrong man, then. I am not the one instigating war over Skyrim.”

Minerva crossed her arms, her brows narrowing. She somehow had a feeling he wouldn't accept to attend to the council. “Alduin will destroy the world if I don't stop him. You've seen him, general, and what he did to Helgen. Imagine if he gains even more strength. We’re doomed.”

Tullius ran a hand down his face and sighed sharply, sounding more collected when he stated, “I'm a man of reason, Dragonborn. The dragons are a growing plague, I've lost count of the number of men I've lost because of them. I am ready to attend to the meeting, but what about Ulfric?”

Minerva gave a firm nod to reassure, “He will be there.”

But Tullius still wasn't convinced, “Are you certain? I won't head to the meeting only to make a fool of myself.”

“He  _ will be there _ , Tullius. He has to.”  _ Or I am going to drag him up there myself,  _ she thought but left it unspoken.

Finally convinced, he rubbed his face with his hand before he turned to the woman next to him, “Rikke, ready everything we’ll need for our journey.”

Rikke nodded, eyeing the Dragonborn one more time before she took her leave. Tullius, looking extremely exhausted, wondered, “To High Hrothgar, I imagine?” to which Minerva nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, and without voicing another word she headed for the door, ready to take her leave.

“But I wonder, Dragonborn,” Tullius spoke and pulled her to a stop, “What has the Empire done to earn your ire?”

"My ire is towards the Thalmor," she said as she turned to face him. "The Empire’s only fault was to bow to them. And I haven't forgotten Helgen. You wanted me dead even though I wasn't on your damn list."

"Without the treaty, there would be no Empire left," Tullius inserted gravely, "The elves would have crushed Tamirel and killed every race."

"They're not exactly sparing lives, either," she retorted, feeling her anger cloud her mind, "Even with the treaty the Thalmor kill innocent people, they even purge entire villages if they so much as suspect someone of Talos worship."

Tullius shook his head and calmly countered, "That is not true," sounding very certain of the statement.

"Of course it is!" she countered, her patience slipping. Her outburst surprised him, he looked both clueless and insulted. It made her realize he had no idea what she was talking about. "Many people have lost their families to the Thalmor, villages have been destroyed by them and no one dares to voice a word against them! Jarl Ulfric alone has the courage to fight!"

"Do not," Tullius started with his pointer raised in warning, "Praise that murderer in my presence."

Minerva raised her chin, a stubborn set to her jaw when she added, regardless of the warning from Tullius, "He will succeed. It is only a matter of time until Skyrim is free once again."

“It's better you take your leave now, Dragonborn,” he warned before he straightened up, pure venom in his voice when he growled, “I'm starting to lose what little respect I have towards you.”

Minerva gladly obeyed, striding out of the room without voicing another word. Tullius had no idea what she'd been talking about, couldn't understand the excruciating pain she'd endured because of the elves. He couldn't understand her anger either because he grew up in a loving home, far from any violence, and has pursued his dreams as a young man.

At least, she thought so of him.

She guessed he'd never experienced the violence of the Thalmor first hand so he couldn't understand why most of the people in Skyrim hated them. The Empire was the only right thing for him. To Tullius, there were no other truth..

Angrily she hurried out of the castle and walked towards the city gates, but decided to stop at the Winking Skeever, before she would continue with her journey to Windhelm.

Despite their disagreement, Tullius agreed to attend to the council. Now it was up to her to convince Ulfric to join as well, though she didn't think he would be much of a problem.

She entered the inn and immediately headed towards the counter, sitting down on the stool before the innkeeper addressed her.

“Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend. If you need a good rumor or two, I think I can oblige…”

“Not today, thanks,” she politely declined before requesting, “But I would like a mug of ale, please.”

“Mug of ale for the lady,” he stated, and swiftly prepared her drink before he handed it to her. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you.” Minerva took a sip of her mug and listened to the soft music played by the bard.

Someone had ordered Ragnar the Red and Minerva grinned, hearing the song over a hundred times throughout her journeys. But then someone ordered 'Age of Aggression', and Minerva turned towards the bard, hoping to find the idiot who'd ordered that song.

The bard sang, oblivious to her deathly stares as people gathered around him, raising their mugs to the song.

“ _ Down with Ulfric, the killer of Kings! On the day of your death we will drink and we'll sing!” _

Of course, the entire tavern sang and Minerva averted her gaze to the mug in front of her, feeling her hand twitch for the sword on her belt. Instead, she managed to keep her calm and drank her mug empty before she payed for it, standing up from the stool.

“I've seen you somewhere,” a man stated from behind her talking through his nose and Minerva stopped, looking over her shoulder at the fool. His leg had been injured; there were blood stains all over the bandage.

The Nord man was searching her face for something and his features widened when realization dawned upon him. “Oh right, you're one of them Stormcloaks!"

More men gathered around him, some of them wearing Imperial armor. Minerva eyed each of them before she crossed her arms, arching one eyebrow.

“Dragonborn would be more accurate,” she hinted, though they weren't intimidated by her title. They were too drunk to acknowledge what she'd said.

“Hey, keep it friendly,” the innkeeper warned, but the man with the injured leg kept his narrowed gaze at her without even acknowledging him.

“Look at what you’ve done to me,” he barked and moved his leg a bit forward for her to see.

Minerva briefly glanced at his leg before looking into his eyes again, stating, “That can't have been me,” only for the man's eyes to widen in outrage. Minerva smiled at his reaction, adding, “You would have been dead if you crossed my blade. Not injured.”

“You little wench," he growled, as the others behind him slowly took out their weapons. "You are outnumbered, sweetheart. Do you really think you can fight us all at the same time?"

“I do,” she shot back, “And I would advise you to leave if you don't want your other leg injured. Or worse.”

The others started to round up on her while she was channelling her magic, ready to counter any blows with her storm spell.

“Hey, that's enough!” The innkeeper came between them, holding his arms apart to keep them away from Minerva.

“What's wrong, Corpulus? Are you one of them now?!”

“No! But I warned multiple times this is a tavern! People enjoy their drinks here no matter whose side they're on! Now either leave the woman alone or I'll call in the guards!”

“It's fine,” Minerva inserted, pulling the innkeeper’s attention to her. “I'm leaving. I have more important things to do, anyway.”

Without waiting she turned for the door and left a group of violent Imperials behind. They called her names all the way out, and only silenced when the door closed behind her. She headed for the city gates, deciding not to waste her time anymore before she mounted Frost.

She travelled down the road from Solitude, followed the road passing by Katla's farm and headed towards Dragon Bridge. A few Imperial soldiers passed her along the way, but they didn't even acknowledge her and she continued her journey, taking the fastest road leading to Windhelm.

She travelled for hours, Secunda and Maser started appearing on the night sky, and the sharp wind cutting through the gaps of her armor made her drop her current journey for today. She needed a shelter for the oncoming night.

She cleared the bandits from Robber's Gorge and used their shelter and supplies for the night. She sat on the bedroll and poked the fire as the stew cooked above it, and not an hour later did she enjoy the warm meal. As she sipped away the stew, she thought about her inevitable encounter with Ulfric. She blushed, whether from her thoughts of him or the warmth of the stew she slowly sipped away.

It would be the first time after months to see him. She admitted that, perhaps, she did a mistake by not visiting him more often. She did visit the children, Nora and Calder in Hjerim, but she stayed clear of the palace for an unknown reason. Now that she thought about it, she found she'd been too nervous to see him because of the kiss they'd shared.

Nora had also told her in one of the letters that Ulfric had visited them a few times, occupying himself with the children. She could only imagine their tiny faces when the Jarl of Windhelm personally decided to spend time with them.

Once she finished her meal, she decided to rest. She placed a bedroll on top of another and luckily it made the ground a bit more comfortable.

She looked at the flames all until she fell asleep.

####

_ 4E 176… _

_ A six year old Minerva listened to the wind softly grazing her cheeks, dancing with the leaves high up in the trees. She shielded her eyes with her hand to look up, noticing a flock of birds swiftly pass, their chirps music to her ears. The laughter of the other children in the village echoed all around her. _

_ It was a day like many other, spent in the most beautiful place in the world. _

_ Her home. _

_ Minerva caught her parents near the mill, her mother laughing as she gathered the crops and her father chopping wood. They looked careless and happy. The way her mother's light brown, long hair moved with the wind made her look like a fairy. It was tied back with several braids, but the ends were free. _

_ Her mother placed the basket on the ground and straightened up as her father approached. She looked at him as though he was everything to her, and the same adoration was evident in her father's loving gaze. _

_ Minerva was happy, the sky the purest blue color she'd ever seen. When she blinked, everything changed. _

_ The sky turned into a mix of gray and red color, the trees around her burned. She turned to identify the sound coming from behind her. Horsemen in elven armor galloped into the village, weapons held high into the air. _

_ Afraid, she hurried to where she'd last seen her parents to find an entirely different scene. Every villager had their weapons ready, shields held high and armor on, as they met the horsemen head on. Her mother, glowing in magicka and angry, deflected the intruders magick and used fire, ice and storm to defend everyone. _

_ Her father, wielding a black waraxe and dressed in steel plate armor which almost glowed from the fires surrounding them, faced them bravely without hesitation. _

_ There was yelling, shouting, screams and cries. Minerva realized that, in time, the ones that had attacked their village, outnumbered them. More and more familiar faces lined the ground. She panicked and ran to her mother. _

_ On her knees, Minerva's mother cupped her face and made her look into her eyes. The freckles painted her face like spring flowers on a meadow, her eyes were round and the same pale green color as Minerva's. Dirt and blood was splashed over her face but that didn't make her any less beautiful. _

_ She smiled and for a second, Minerva felt as though everything would return to how it once was. To her mother and father hugging near the mill, supporting each other in whatever they had to face. They loved each other, Minerva knew because of all these simple gestures. Her mother had, not once, been unhappy or sad. _

_ But it would never be the same. _

_ Strong arms yanked them apart and held Minerva in place. She watched helplessly as they threw her mother on the ground. Her mother summoned her magicka, glowing a bright blue light. She caught the leg of one of the elves as she was struggling on the ground, and a single zap passed from her arm to the soldier. He died a second later. _

_ But so did her mother. _

_ A precise swing of an axe aimed at her head. It mortified Minerva to see it roll away from the body. _

_ She heard her father yelling her mother's name. Jade. Like the purest green colored stone. Minerva remembered how much he adored her name, how many times he'd told her she had the most beautiful name in the world. He would never have the chance to call it again. _

_ He and two other men faced the elves, but the enemy played dirty and used their magic. The fire swallowed them, igniting the steel supposed to protect them and trapping them inside, burning their flesh. The two men died, leaving her father with severe burns all over his body. _

_ On his knees he looked at her, his face bloody and burned, no trace of the once beautiful man left. His shoulder length, black hair burned, his beard ruined. Terror shone in his eyes as he yelled her name repeatedly. _

_ It was the last thing he said before he lost his head. _

####

The fire died with a hiss and the water thrown over it evaporated. She gathered her things, but even though she did her best to focus, she couldn't describe the amount of loneliness and sadness crushing her and not allowing her to breathe.

Hot tears had streamed down her face once she’d woken up, startled and afraid, but so very used to the nightmare. It hadn't been the first time she'd dreamed of her parents murder, but it surely wouldn't be the last. Not everything she'd dreamed of had happened in reality.

But no matter how many times the dream played out differently, they would always lose their heads. 

The elves had killed everyone, had burned down everything they'd built. In the nightmare, her parents were vigilant and fought back, were ready to die to defend their homes. However, with so many version's of the encounter stored in her mind, she couldn't tell which one was the truth or not.

Often she would dream of that faithful day. But to evade the sweet call of darkness to join them in Sovngarde, she often remembered the times she'd spent with her family. She was young, a child, to learn anything about their past. There were faint memories of her father sparing with a few other men from their village, and of her mother sometimes glowing in magicka. However, she remembered them as simple farmers, minding their own business.

To her disappointment, she would never know who her parent's were before all that. 

Her mother had sometimes told her stories of High Rock, but whether they were all made up or not would remain a mystery to her. Her father had often told her stories about the Dragonborn, about Atmora and the five hundred Companion's joining Ysgramor to fight the Snow Elves. Why, she would never know. 

Casting one last glance at the cave, she found she picked up everything before she headed out. The sun was high up in the sky as she stepped out and she continued her way to Windhelm.

The nightmare rested heavily on her mind, she was only partially paying attention to her surroundings. She thought about it extensively to remember the face of the Altmer that had led the assault and beheaded both her mother and father. She remembered red eyes maniacally looking at her as the others demanded to kill her, but instead he ordered them to take her to their home island.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember any more of him than his eyes.

With her thoughts occupied with the loss of her family, it took her a second longer to realize the walls of Windhelm before her. Minerva shook her head free of the pain and blinked, and shuddered at the sight; the once protective wall was halfway destroyed, the stone crumbling. She dismounted Frost and left him at the stables. The closer she approached the city, the more destruction she faced.

The guard at the gates immediately recognized her and realization dawned upon him.

“Dragonborn,” he greeted, removing his helmet to reveal the sleep deprived face underneath the armor. “It's good to have you back.”

Minerva nodded to him before averting her attention to the damage caused by Alduin. She moved the gate open and dread filled her at the scene before her; numerous people were on the streets, sitting around the large bonfire and preparing something to eat. They all looked sleep deprived and afraid, their clothes tattered and burned, many of them barefoot. Half of Candlehearth Inn was destroyed, the houses to her right almost completely decimated.

Minerva's eyes landed on a girl in tattered clothes, their eyes met and she pulled at the sleeve of the woman standing next to her, whispering in awe, “Look, mama, the Dragonborn!”

The woman turned and her tired eyes rested on Minerva. She looked as though one of the divines presented themself before them. People heard the girl and looked at Minerva, their faces softening with relief. Minerva moved further in, people who were sitting on the cold ground standing up as she passed, abandoning whatever they were doing to look at her. Whispers started among the people, but they soon turned loud enough for Minerva to hear as she walked further towards the palace.

“The Dragonborn!”

“We’re saved!”

“Thank Talos she came back!”

Minerva couldn't understand why they were in awe of her, sounding almost happy to see her, when in truth it was her fault they lived in such a misery. Alduin managed to destroy half of Windhelm because she'd been too slow with her quest to kill him.

More people greeted her on the way to the palace, hope brightened their features as she passed them.

The streets were filled with debris. It made her wonder whether Hjerim was damaged in the attack, but maybe Alduin didn't reach that deep into the city. Once she stopped by the gates and looked up at the palace, she noticed half of the tower was missing.

The guards both greeted her as she pushed the gates open enough so she could enter. As she entered, she noticed Jorleif talking to a handful of people. He was deeply immersed in the conversation, Minerva stopped by the table and silently waited for him to finish speaking with them.

Not long after the group of people left, Jorleif sighed and his focus was pulled to her. It took a moment, but realization flashed across his face when he recognized her. Minerva went towards him, smiling, and the Jarl's steward bowed courtly. 

When he stood straight, he removed his hat. “Lady Dragonborn, it's so good to see you!”

Minerva nodded, feeling genuinely happy to see the steward unharmed. She noticed the shadows on his face, it matched the ones she noticed on the people outside.

Putting the hat back on, he wondered, “I assume you wish to speak with the Jarl.”

“Where is he?”

“In the war room, my lady, discussing his further course of action with Galmar.”

"Thank you."

She headed towards the war room. The closer she came, the clearer the voices of Galmar and Ulfric became. Knowing the general was here didn't sit quite well with her. However, their disagreement wasn't important currently, because she had her own battles to fight which were more important than their bickering. 

Her mind drifted back to the moment she first came to the palace, to join the rebellion. Her heartbeat elevated the closer she came to her destination, her stomach fluttered.

She crossed the final archway and stepped in. Both their attentions were drawn from each other to her, and Minerva inhaled deeply when the tired, defeated eyes of the Jarl rested on hers.


	23. Closure

“Dragonborn,” the Jarl greeted, lifting his attention from the map on the table to her. “Welcome back to Windhelm.”

She approached, her eyes focused on the map between them, wondering what part of the war they'd been discussing.

Arms crossed, she stopped near them and finally looked at them both. Galmar was the first to speak up and it was evident he wasn't happy to see her.

“I thought you were on the quest to slay the World-Eater?”

Minerva steeled her nerves, he was the last person she wanted to talk to.

“I am,” she calmly admitted, even though looking him squarely in the eyes pulled at the strings of her patience. “My next step took me to Windhelm, actually.”

“Do you require aid?” the Jarl's calm question pulled her focus from Galmar to him.

Before she could answer, Galmar slammed both his fists into the table. Both shot their attentions to him.

“ _ We  _ require aid!” he barked. “Our numbers are low Ulfric! We cannot afford to help her in any way!”

“I don't need your soldiers, nor your resources,” she assured, hoping to mend the tension starting to rise.

“Then speak!” Galmar demanded angrily.

Minerva averted her attention to the Jarl, to calmly add, “My next step requires the aid of another dragon.”

“You've mentioned so in your letter,” Ulfric confirmed.

She nodded, “I will have to capture the dragon in Dragonsreach, but Jarl Vignar will not agree to this until there is still war. He wants a temporary truce between the Empire and the rebellion.”

Ulfric eyed her carefully, as if considering his options until his brows furrowed and he turned to Galmar. “What do you say?”

Galmar, with his arms crossed, eyed her as though she was a criminal. “And you think the Empire will want to talk to us?"

He was suspicious and she was quick to dispel it. “General Tullius has already agreed to attend the council at High Hrothgar. He is ready to sign the temporary truce.”

“High Hrothgar?” Ulfric repeated as though he hadn't heard right. Something flashed in his eyes when he looked at her and Minerva suspected it was fear.

“Yes, the Greybeard's will hold the peace council. It is neutral ground."

Ulfric looked away, his eyes running across the map and his face hardened in deep thought. His voice was low, as though he spoke to himself, “The dragon attacks are a growing plague, and I'm certain even Tullius had his fair share of dragon attacks. But the political situation is still delicate, and not all Jarl's would support my claim as High King. I cannot afford to appear weak.”

He then looked at her and a shadow of doubt clouded his features. “I can only agree to this if Tullius himself is going to be there.”

Minerva didn't shy away from looking into his eyes when she nodded, “Tullius will be there. He is probably already on his way.”

Ulfric sighed sharply and faced Galmar, “Prepare everything for the journey, we leave with the first rays of sun.”

“Aye,” Galmar muttered, his hard eyes on hers, all until he went to do as ordered.

Minerva felt the tension leave with him, and after a few seconds she allowed herself to relax. She occupied the space Galmar had been a few seconds prior and faced him.

“Alduin destroyed more than just a few houses,” she commented and watched the shadow from before creeping back to his face.

“That is the doing of another dragon,” he clarified a bit irritated at her observation, “We've managed to fight it and win, but I fear it is only a matter of time before it returns."

He placed his finger on the map, north-west from of Windhelm. "It flew in this direction."

She nodded, as soon as she was done here she would hunt it down.

“Is there anything I can do to help, my Jarl?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Kill the dragon. I've put a generous bounty on it, but it seems no warrior has the balls to face it.”

With her mind set, she headed for the door, determined to kill the beast.

“Dragonborn.”

She stopped to the Jarl's voice and looked at him over her shoulder. He was looking at her with dreamy eyes when he admitted, “It is good to have you back,” and Minerva couldn't help but smile.

“It feels good to be back,” she admitted, before she hurried out.

If she was quick to find and kill the dragon, she would return to Hjerim just in time for dinner, and she couldn't wait to see her children. It made her wonder how much of the home had been damaged.

Minerva was quick to head to the stables, and the second she mounted Frost she was already galloping off towards the dragon. She rode along the main road, after a while she came across a huge trail of blood, leading from the road into the forest. She dismounted the steed and followed the trail.

She crouched behind a boulder when she spotted the dragon, injured and bloody. It was hiding in a cave which had been occupied by bears, earlier. Two of the dead animals were on the snowy ground before the dragon, one was between its fangs. 

She stood and moved around to reveal herself. The dragon growled when it spotted her, but it made no attempt to escape. That's when she noticed its bloody leg.

“And so the  _ Dovahkiin  _ comes to kill me,” it barked.

With the Mithril sword in hand, she carefully watched its eyes as it followed her every step. She came closer to where she knew was its heart and the dragon roared again, barely able to move.

“ _ Dur hi, Dovahkiin!  _ Alduin will feast on your soul for this!”

Minerva lifted the scale where its beating heart was before she buried her sword into it. The dragon roared in pain, the life slowly left it and its skin started to burn of its bones. Minerva watched the blood seeping out of the wound, the hand holding the sword in the dragon’s heart pulsating with each of its slowing beats until it stopped. She waited for a few more seconds for the dragon’s soul to pass through her before she withdrew the sword. The power was mind consuming, thrilling, and Minerva felt its raw intensity pulsing through her bloodstream.

A deep roar sounded from behind her to reveal the frost troll running after her. Minerva threw a fireball at the creature and summoned a fire cloak before she advanced on it. She dodged each of the creatures attacks while she managed to land a few strikes, digging the sword into its thick skin whenever she could.

The troll almost got a hold of her but she evaded, and used the moment of its confusion to cut off its head with one strike. The trolls head flew away as its dead body fell, the deep red blood spilling on the pure white snow. Minerva walked to the head and decided it would make a nice trophy, so she took it and decided to make her way back to the palace, to inform the Jarl the dragon would be no burden anymore.

It was well past noon when she arrived at the palace. The blood stopped dripping sometime along the way so it didn't stain the palace floors when she entered.

Ulfric sat on the throne and his eyes immediately rested on her. Galmar stood protectively at his side with his arms crossed and eyed the trophy she was carrying.

“The dragon is dead,” she informed, to which Ulfric smiled lazily. She looked at Galmar, suspecting he was the one behind the dragon's wounds. “The dragon was in a really bad shape."

“Don't think so highly of him,” Ulfric inserted to which Galmar growled. “That old man could in no way best the dragon all by himself.”

“Of course, I had another old man watching my back,” he growled to which Ulfric laughed, the sound reverberating across the palace walls. “You have become soft, Ulfric.”

“And you became a year older, my friend.”

Minerva blinked, looking at Galmar who was clearly uncomfortable with the Jarl's revelation.

“Wisdom comes with age,” Galmar inserted. Minerva glanced at the trophy in her hand and smiled before she looked back at the general.

“Hey, Galmar,” she called out and earned his attention. “Then I have just the gift for you.” She threw the trophy towards him and Galmar caught it with both his hands, growling.

With a smile on her face she looked back at the Jarl, “If there is nothing else required of me, I will take my leave.”

Minerva caught the suspicion on Ulfric’s face at her information, wondering, “You are leaving Windhelm?”

“No, my Jarl, I’ll be heading home to spend some time with my children,” she clarified, and when the Jarl nodded she bowed her head before she left the palace.

Minutes later she was standing in front of Hjerim. The home looked intakt, with just a bit of damage to the roof. It wasn't as harmed as she thought it to be, probably because of its secured position. She inserted the key and turned the handle, stepping inside she was greeted with their laughter. Someone ran close to the entrance and Minerva smiled when Hroar's eyes widened in surprise.

She'd adopted him from the orphanage after she'd heard the children were up for adoption again. Many of the children had already been adopted when she'd arrived, Hroar was one of the unlucky ones to not have been adopted. It didn't take her long to decide to take Hroar home with her. Lucia and Sofie needed a brother, and Hroar had a heart of gold.

“Min! You're back!” Minerva fell to her knees as Hroar hugged her, Lucia and Sofie immediately doing the same.

Somehow Minerva managed to hug all of them before the three pulled away a little, giving her space. Placing a hand on Sofie's and Lucia's shoulder, Hroar walked in front of them and guided them inside.

Nora was standing in front of the fireplace, the kettle hung over the fire. The smell of food hit Minerva's nose and she inhaled deeply, her stomach growling in response.

“Minerva,” she said in greeting, “It's good to see you back.”

“My thane.” Calder bowed, the smile wide on his face.

The children bombarded her with questions about her adventures. Although she'd missed them, Minerva's head pounded with their too enthusiastic questioning. Luckily, Nora stepped in.

“Now now, children, let her get rid of that armor, first.”

“But I want to know how many dragons she slayed!” Hroar begged.

And Lucia joined in, “I wanna know if you went to Solitude! Tell me all about the bards college!”

“Did you bring us a gift?!” Sofie asked lastly before Nora told them to bring the plates and help her serve everything for dinner. The children were disappointed but they did so nonetheless, and the three left the room to do just as Nora had told them.

Minerva went up the stairs and to her room, ready to get into something more comfortable. She took her time undressing her armor, deciding to put on fresh undergarments as well. The armor was safely stored on the mannequin in the corner, and she took a white, oversized shirt and brown leather leggings and boots. The black corsage around her waist held the shirt in place, and Minerva took one look at the mirror.

She splashed cold water on her face to get rid of the dirt and grime, then wiped her face clean with a piece of cloth. Satisfied, she finally made her way downstairs, and when she emerged everything was served on the table.

Minerva approached the table, the children pointing with their hand for her to sit next to them, but a knock on the door pulled Minerva’s attention to it. With her brows furrowed in suspicion she approached the door, wondering who could be knocking on the door at this time of day. She pulled the door open and her brows arched in surprise.

“Jarl Ulfric?”

She caught how his eyes took in her form before they rested on hers, a small smile appearing on his face. “May I enter?”

She stepped aside and granted the Jarl entrance. As soon as the children spotted him they were up from their seats, running towards him. Minerva was aware of her gaping mouth as she watched Sofie jumping in his arms and Ulfric pulling her up to carry her with one arm.

He took hold of Lucia's hand as Hroar walked in front of them towards the table. Minerva stood, unable to move as she watched the scene unfolding before her; the children were genuinely happy to see the Jarl and even he had a smile on his face.

_ Just what the hell is going on here? And how many times did he visit them, exactly?! _

“We were just about to have dinner!” Lucia explained as she sat next to the Jarl, after she squeezed herself between him and Hroar. “Nora's yummy rabbit stew and fresh, homemade bread!”

“Hey Ulfric, you can stay for dinner and then I'm going to show you what I learned so far!” Hroar suggested enthusiastically.

“I made a new doll!” Sofie exclaimed from her seat before taking the newly made doll out. “Look! Isn't she pretty?”

“Well, I made a new necklace!” Lucia exclaimed, jealous of the attention Ulfric was giving Sofie.

“No, you didn't!” Hroar teased and Lucia shot him a glare.

“Yes I did! And it's prettier than those stupid attacks of yours!”

“Children!” The children silenced at Minerva's voice booming through the room. She loved them with her heart, but not even a day went by and she already suffered from a headache.

She was aware of the Jarl watching her, but she had to calm them a bit. “Slow down and let the man breathe, not everyone has the same amount of energy as you.”

“Yes, Min,” they all said quietly and calmed in their seats.

But Hroar's big eyes found hers when he asked, “But Ulfric can stay for dinner, yes?” before he looked at Ulfric, his huge eyes begging him to stay.

“Please Min, can Ulfric stay for dinner?” Sofie begged from her seat.

Minerva, feeling a little overwhelmed with the situation, blinked several times and finally found her wording. “You'll have to ask the Jarl if he can stay, sweety. Maybe he has unfinished business at the Palace.”

The three children directed their eyes at the Jarl of Windhelm, and Minerva already knew he couldn’t say no to them. “The court will have to wait,” Ulfric agreed and their faces all lit up in glee.

Shaking her head free of the confusion, Minerva finally took her seat at the table, across the Jarl. The children talked as they ate, bragged about their skills and who did the most chores around the home.

After a while, Lucia finished first and hurried to her room to retrieve the necklace. Hroar did the same, retrieving the sword so he could show the Jarl the new attacks he'd practiced on the dummy. Sofie sat comfortably next to him and Minerva couldn't look away as she talked with Ulfric. Minerva could tell she was attached to him, could even suspect the Jarl was attached to her more than to her other children, and her stomach did a pleasant flip at that thought.

Lucia came back with the necklace. “Look Ulfric! Isn't it pretty? I made it for Min!”

Ulfric admired the necklace then nodded. “You have skilled hands. If you practice long and hard enough you can become a skilled craftsman.”

Lucia lit up at the Jarl's praise. Hroar came with a wooden sword and called for Ulfric to watch. The boy still had to work on his stance, Minerva realised as she watched Ulfric, completely surprised to see him so casually talking with her children. It made her once again wonder just how many times he had visited them.

Ulfric stood suddenly and walked to Hroar, kneeling down next to him to readjust his grip on the weapon, and further explained how to wield it properly with the proper stance. Minerva watched the scene before her, Hroar absorbing every word Ulfric spoke. Hroar was in awe of him, respected Ulfric greatly, and something warm spread inside of her as she watched the two. It made her wonder whether Ulfric was here, bonding with her children, because he had none of his own.

Ulfric stood, placing a hand on Hroar’s shoulder. The boy looked at him with wide, expectant eyes and Minerva's heart contorted at it. “Soon you will be old enough to wear armor and train with my best soldier’s. And remember, you are the man of the house; you need to protect your sisters and your mother.”

“Yes, Ulfric! I’m going to be the best soldier!”

He would make a good father, Minerva concluded, and inhaled deeply when their kiss played in her mind. Hroar gave the sword a few more swings as Ulfric retook his seat in front of her, focused on Hroar for a while longer before he turned to look at her.

He looked slightly surprised to see her watching him, and Minerva shamelessly continued to gaze into his eyes. Her closed fist was underneath her chin, her legs crossed. Slowly, her surroundings became nonexistent as she was pulled into the eyes of the man that had intrigued her since they’d kissed.

Minerva could still remember the feeling of his lips on hers, the way his teeth had dug into the tender skin to demand entrance, and the way his tongue battled against hers. The Jarl seemed to be mirroring her thoughts because his gaze darkened. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart, but to no avail.

Her voice was low when she spoke, meant only for him as she refused to look away, “Your last letter mentioned there was something we need to discuss.” It wasn't until now that she realized just how curious she was to find out what the Jarl needed to discuss with her.

But she was disappointed when he shook his head instead, admitting, “Not here, and not now. That is a delicate matter, one that will take time to conclude.”

As much as she hated to admit, but he was right. Whatever he wanted to discuss couldn't be done so in front of her children, or anyone. Minerva had the feeling he wished to be alone with her while they discussed whatever needed to be resolved. A thought flashed in her mind but she quickly dismissed it, and heat rose to her cheeks. He couldn’t surely mean that type of  _ discussion.  _

The children went on talking with Ulfric. Minerva wasn't sure how much time passed, but the children all started to rub their eyes. She stood up from her seat.

“Come on children, time for bed,” she called softly, but the first protest came from Sofie who was leaned against the Jarl.

“Please Min, just a little longer,” she spoke sleepily, and both Lucia and Hroar joined in on their protests. Minerva took Lucia into her arms and the girl leaned her head on her mother's shoulder, yawning.

“If you'll excuse me, Jarl Ulfric, I have to put the children to bed.”

Ulfric stood up, he looked ready to leave. “Of course.”

Minerva watched him as Hroar came to her, tired, and informed the Jarl, "You're free to stay if you like."

“Min?” Sofie called out, rubbing her sleepy eyes when she requested, “Can you and Ulfric put me to sleep?”

“Me too,” Hroar demanded sleepily, and Lucia joined in on their requests.

Minerva didn't know what to say as a rosy blush colored her cheeks, looking at Ulfric for answer and expecting him to decline. But the man scooped both Sofie and Hroar in his arms and carried both children towards her.

“Say goodnight to Nora and Calder,” Minerva informed softly as she went towards the stairs with Ulfric in tow.

“Goodnight Nora, goodnight Calder,” the children spoke in unison, barely able to keep their eyes open. By the time they reached their rooms, Hroar and Lucia were already asleep. Minerva tucked Lucia into her bed and placed a goodnight kiss to her forehead, then she accepted Hroar from Ulfric’s arms. She tucked the boy into the bed, placed a kiss to his forehead and gently stroked his hair until he fell into a deep slumber.

She remained sitting on the side of Hroar's bed and turned her focus to the Jarl; he was sitting on the side of Sofie's bed while Sofie fought the sleep with every little ounce of strength left. Her slowly blinking eyes never moved from him until they finally fell shut. Minerva looked at Hroar sleeping peacefully as tears formed in her eyes, her mind conjuring memories of her deceased family. Watching Ulfric put Sofie to sleep made her think back to the time her own father gently tucked her to sleep.

She missed them, and felt loneliness claiming her despite having her own little family now. One tear managed to escape but she quickly wiped it away with her knuckle. A hand on her shoulder startled her and she looked up. Ulfric’s eyes rested on hers when he silently motioned with his head for them to leave.

Minerva put out all the candles in the room before the two finally left. She was very aware of his presence as he followed her downstairs, her heart beating in every direction as he was only a step behind her. She was within his reach, if he just stretched his hand out he could pull her to him.

She wound her arms around her waist as she walked close to the fireplace, the Jarl following her every step. Minerva stopped and turned to face him and was aware of how closely they stood to one another. Nora and Calder were gone, and the silence started to weigh down on her.

She felt the urge to break the ever increasing silence, and asked “May I pour you a drink?”

The Jarl declined, “I will take my leave. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

“Of course,” she said, averting her gaze to the flames in the fireplace and watched how they greedily consumed the wood.

Just then she felt his fingers gently cupping her chin, pulling her focus from the flames to him. The light coming from the fire danced across his face, but Minerva immediately noticed the melancholic shine in his eyes.

“We leave when the sun rises,” he spoke so softly Minerva had to resist the urge to close her eyes.

She did blink once, but his eyes trapped her and there was nothing she could do to break his hold on her. Heat rose in her body, her heart threatened to burst inside of her chest, her hands started to shake as she resisted the urge to touch him.

His hand moved from her chin and he cupped her cheek, and no power in the world could give her enough strength to resist him. Her resistance crumbled and she leaned into his touch, bringing her own hand on top of his as she closed her eyes. The skin of his hand was rough, his fingers calloused, but he was so gentle when his thumb feathered over her cheek.

Minerva never felt such bliss in her entire life, and she wasn’t even capable of putting her feelings into words. It wasn't just her imagination. He had to feel it too; the pull towards one another, the thrill of when they were alone. Her eyes opened and she caught him watching her, the melancholy from earlier replaced by desire. He looked enraptured, bewildered, like a man trapped in a witches enchantment.

He moved his hand and his finger feathered gently over her cheek, her jaw and neck, and he pushed the collar from her shirt slightly apart, revealing more of her skin and the amulet she wore. Minerva was certain he could see part of her cleavage and even the thought thrilled her.

“An amulet of Talos,” he murmured.

Minerva held his gaze, hoping he could understand her thoughts just by looking at her.

"I always carry it with me," she admitted, "He is our patron, a true hero. The Thalmor will pay for banning his worship."

The Jarl barely nodded as his eyes focused on her lips, his thoughts consumed. When he moved his face slowly to hers, she couldn't resist. She sighed softly against his lips, and everything felt right in the world.

He cupped her face and held her tightly to him. Minerva wanted so much more to happen, right in this moment, even if the thought made her hands shake.

Slowly he pulled away, too soon to her disappointment. His gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer before he wordlessly headed towards the door. It took her a moment to regain her senses. Shaking her head, she followed him and opened the front door, pulling it open, her gaze focused on the wall behind him as he silently stared at her.

He hesitated, waited. Minerva didn't want to look at him, too great was the desire for him. She feared if she opened her mouth no sane or proper words would leave it.

After a hopeless, yet short wait, he left. She pushed the door and it closed loudly, she hoped she'd startled him at least a little. For a few moments she stood by the door, trying to calm her racing heartbeat and hoping that, although unlikely, he would return and finish what he so gently started. His touches have left a burning sensation on her skin, have awakened a desire she thought wasn't present. 

She locked the door and walked upstairs to her room, with each step her frustration grew and when she landed on the bed she exhaled deeply. Her thoughts drifted back to Ulfric and she groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed so she could remove her boots.

Minerva admitted she was frustrated and that she needed a man to satisfy her needs. The Jarl seemed a bold enough man to do just that, but with every oh so romantic encounter with him she grew more and more frustrated.

Her thoughts drifted back to Ralof and she sighed deeply. He wouldn't hesitate to satisfy her needs, but even so Minerva couldn't imagine laying with him again. Their argument had left a irreparable gap between them. She had the feeling nothing could ever repair it.

Turning to her side she shut her eyes. It would take a while but hopefully, sleep would claim her quickly. Tomorrow would be a long day and she needed her thoughts straight before she would face the council.


End file.
